17. Chapter 17
Chapter 17
A few days after her return home, Emily lounged behind the front desk at the hair salon, waiting for new clients to arrive. The lull gave her time to think, to figure out how to smooth out some things.
Debbie now hated her, apparently. When Emily came home, her younger sister had been pitching a fit about a broken microwave, which turned into an angry storming up the stairs while expressing a wish that Emily “had a good holiday with Dad”, soaked in sarcasm only a fourteen-year-old could produce. Nicky was quiet about the whole affair, which was worse than her ranting.
And the trip to Hartford hadn’t even paid off.
The usual cheery conversation drifted from the back. It was always the loudest when Miss Iris was here; she was a frequent client and came as much for the gossip as she did for her hairdo.
“And I told him, I told him ,” the old lady said, “I said to him, Geoffrey, you knew how that woman was gonna be from your first date. What do I always say? To look at their shoes . If they be wearing them stringy little things with high heels, ain’t nothing good gonna come out of that.”
“Yeah, don’t go to your next date in those shoes, Lauren,” Alyssa, a junior stylist, remarked.
“Present company excluded. It’s only meant for the women Geoffrey dates. My, does he have the worst taste in them!”
“Can’t be worse than Johnny Dillengie. Y’all heard of Johnny?” Sherry asked.
“No, what about him?”
“He dated a ghost once.”
A chair screeched. “A ghost?” Miss Iris asked in her raspy voice.
“So he said.”
Emily smiled at the conversation, but when she swiveled on her chair and looked outside, her smile faded.
Her ghost was there. Not close—on the other side of the road. But she knew his look by now.
She shrieked.
“Sweet Jesus, what was that?”
“Emily?” Nicky sounded concerned.
Emily glanced over her shoulder, and when she looked back at the street, the ghost was gone.
“Nothing!” she yelled. “I’m fine. Dropped my phone.”
“That was quite a scream for a phone,” Miss Iris said. “Kids these days.”
Emily’s pulse slowly returned to normal.
“Well, he’s got her on photos. The ghost. Showed them to me,” Sherry said.
“Ooh, you gotta tell him to pop over. I love seeing pictures of ghosts. Too bad they’re always so blurry. Don’t like the paparazzi, them ghosts.”
Emily wandered to the back and leaned on the doorway. “Miss Iris, you know a lot about ghosts, don’t you?”
“I like to think so, honey. Why?”
“They’re usually bound to places, right?” At least that was how the stories went.
“Mm-hmm. Most often those they died in or held significance in their lifetime. You’ve got bedroom ghosts, tavern ghosts, garden ghosts…”
“Cemetery.” Lauren shuddered.
“Why you asking, honey?”
“Have you ever heard of a ghost bound to a person? One that always appears close to a certain individual?”
Miss Iris pursed her lips. “No, I don’t think so. At least not here in Savannah. But we ain’t the only haunted city in the world.”
“Emily, what’s this about?” Nicky asked.
“Research. For school.”
“If you need research about ghosts, should I call Johnny Dillengie for you?” Sherry smiled mischievously.
“No, thanks. I think dating ghosts might be a bit too much.”
“Well, whatever work you’ve got, don’t forget we have to visit your mama today,” Nicky said.
Emily nodded as she returned to the front desk. Outside, everything had returned to normal. No strange people. And definitely no ghosts.
“And I tried, Mama. I did. I swear. But I don’t know what to do.” Emily caressed her mom’s hand while she remained quiet, as always. Only the steady rise and fall of her chest—thanks to the machine pumping air into her lungs—and the even beeping of the monitors indicated there was still life in Veronica Willburne.
“I can’t believe I’m telling you about time travel.” Emily sniffled. “But I guess the standard ‘I did my homework’ conversation can get stale.” If Mama could hear her, what did she think? She had always been open to crazy stuff like that, though she wasn’t as paranoid as Sarah. And that Star Trek movie with the whales was her favorite. Emily smiled at the thought. Mama might like time travel.
A careful knock sounded at the door, and Dad’s head peeked through.
“Dad?”
“I promised I’d come.”
“Yeah, but…” Emily stood as he entered the small hospital room.
“I know. Bad track with promises.” He cleared his throat. “I also brought you the family tree.” He handed her a paper, folded several times. “Sorry it’s a bad copy. The whole thing is a bit of a mess, with several branches missing.”
And others being overgrown with the damn Spanish moss. Names, circles, and arrows ran across the document like scribbles of a mad conspiracy theorist. Emily raised her eyes from the paper, but the question about Grandma’s organizational skills died on her lips as she saw Dad, staring at Mama like she was a mirage in the desert. A really pretty mirage.
“I, uh… I’ll leave you to talk to her.” Eyes down, she scampered out. She leaned on the hallway wall and, as that one annoying tear cleared, re-examined the family tree. There was Dad, Grandma—oh, another Emmeline!—and a little right and below her… Fabienne. She was her ancestor!
Her name continued into a Guillaume, 1866—1947 . Pelletier was scribbled next to it, and a hand-drawn arrow led to a remark: Explore . Emily stared at the note as if it would miraculously explain itself. Another name next to Guillaume—Fabienne’s only child—read Gaspard Pelletier .
She didn’t understand. Where was Brayden? Who was this Guillaume, why was he the son of Gaspard Pelletier? It wasn’t—it wasn’t—
She frantically searched for the diary in her bag and opened it on the first page.
Fabienne Beaumont
Brignoles, France
1866
pour mon Guillaume
For my Guillaume. For her son. He was there. It was real. The date given matched his date of birth, so Fabienne must’ve been in France when he was born. But Fabienne was married to Brayden, not some sleazy French guy. All right, Emily had no reason to think this Gaspard Pelletier was sleazy, but she didn’t have to like him. And the diary never mentioned him; only Fabienne’s siblings, her neighbors in Hartford, and baking apple pies and cute Christmas Balls and… well, Brayden.
Emily stared blankly at that part of the tree. Guillaume Pelletier. Married in 1891, someone called Sylvia Winters. No details on that one, either—another branch missing.
But something else also bothered her. When she’d found out about the house in Hartford, she felt as if she was on the verge of a discovery—as if she was in a movie, creeping toward a closed door as the music swelled; she had her hand on the doorknob, and she’d open it and the revelation would shine in her face. The diary, the watch, the house. So close to making sense, and yet it didn’t. The watch ended up in Mama’s things, but she wasn’t related to Fabienne. Was it possible Mama owned that watch—that Dad had given it to her—and Emily had never noticed it?
She peeked through the hallway window into Mama’s room. Dad had taken the available chair. He was talking, and even though she couldn’t hear it, based on the nostalgic look on his face, it must’ve been something pleasant. Something that, if she could hear him, would make Mama feel better. Another thing, another part of their life Emily had no clue about.
She put the diary back in the bag and stopped as she brushed past the watch. She looked up, at Dad, and back at the watch, and before she’d fully made the decision, she opened the door.
Dad flinched, and shook his head as if trying to wipe away his expression.
“I’m sorry, I…” Emily’s hand closed around the watch. Well, she’d already made it awkward—might as well go through with it. She displayed the watch on her open palm. “Is this yours?”
The emotions in Dad’s eyes changed so swiftly she’d nearly missed them. Surprise, confusion—and just before it… alarm .
“No, I don’t think so,” he said.
She furrowed her eyebrows. “You don’t know?”
“Can I see it?”
She bit back a response— It’s very simple, either you owned a pocket watch or not —and handed it to him. Dad handled it carefully, and his neck stiffened slightly as he opened the lid.
No normal person ever treated a pocket watch like that.
“Emily.” He closed the lid and clenched his jaw. “I want you to get rid of this thing. It’s dangerous.”
“Wh—how?” She scoffed. “Was it stolen from somewhere? Is the mafia looking for it or something?” Her laugh came off strange, forced.
“Just get rid of it. Please.”
Grass-green eyes, same as hers, stared her down with determination. This was no longer Absent Dad; if they were a normal family, she imagined he’d give her that look when he’d tell her to go to her room because she’s grounded. The air vibrated in expectation. She waited; he waited. Her hand began to sweat. Enough.
“For god’s sake, Dad. Will you admit that you know this thing does time travel?”
The stunned silence was only broken by the continuous beeping of the monitoring devices. Beep . Emily stared at Dad. Beep . Wide-eyed, Dad had frozen, still offering her the watch. Beep .
“How do you know?” he whispered.
“I’ve done it. A few times.” She couldn’t believe she was talking about time travel with her dad—that same dad to whom she couldn’t even talk about school.
After another moment of silence, he ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus, Emily.”
She kneeled by his side. “Dad, how is this possible? Was this yours?”
“No. But I know what it is.” He inhaled loudly. “You shouldn’t even be able to do it. How did you… Where did you go?”
She hesitated. “Back. To visit Mama. Some minor exploration.” She shook her head. “What’s going on?”
Dad spoke slowly. “There was a group once. A secret group of people who knew about time travel.”
Right down Sarah’s alley.
“They were called the Watchers.”
Emily snorted. “The Watchers , who had watches ?”
“I didn’t pick the name. They existed, and then a political upset happened, and they fell apart. The secret was lost with them.”
“How come you know it, then?”
His eyes wandered to Mama. “Years ago, I answered an ad for a ‘lucrative job opportunity’. Me and another guy were selected, and a man presented us with the most insane idea. Time travel. He had a serum that enabled it, but only a limited quantity, and he was willing to share to get a partnership. He had a watch, similar to yours, and he demonstrated… well, it was incredible. He said we could manipulate the past and the present, try to fix mistakes, get rich. See what the lottery numbers would be, those kinds of things.”
“When was that?”
“You and Debbie were little. You know Ronnie’s side of the family never liked me much. Even before the divorce, there was this whole Yankee thing the Southerners love to bring up at any opportunity. And frankly, I didn’t have much to speak for me. I thought maybe with this discovery, with this power, I could make something of myself. A great life for us. And Ronnie’s parents and Nicky would see how wonderfully we were living and… I thought I’d prove a point.”
He stood and paced the room.
“I kept it a secret. Ronnie started to suspect something. I’d say I was at work, I wasn’t. Gone at odd hours. She thought I was cheating on her. I couldn’t tell her the truth. The excuses about being with coworkers weren’t enough.”
His voice rose in pitch. “I thought I could fix it all. But we got too cocky. The guy that got recruited beside me traveled back, trying to do a big change, and he…” Dad grimaced as if he smelled something foul. “I’d never seen anything like that. Like radiation burns, only worse.” He closed his eyes for a second. “The other man and I got in trouble, but because they couldn’t prove it was anything beyond an accident, we got off with conditional. Never saw him again after that, and we destroyed the watch.”
Emily remained silent. Pain pulsated in her temples from trying to catch up with the information. All this time, Dad knew of time travel. Everything that’s happened to her family was because of it. It sounded like a crazy action movie, but instead, it was her life.
“But what about me?” She stared at the washed green linoleum floor. “I didn’t take any serum.”
“No. You hadn’t.” Dad leaned on the wall. “But you were sick during that time, remember? I think whatever this thing was, it could’ve been infectious. A few hours after I’d taken it, we were outside in the backyard, digging your tunnel—“
“To China.” She raised her eyes. “Yeah. I remember.”
“And we accidentally burst a pipe. You got cut, I must have, too, when I was trying to fix it. I suppose I could’ve… the doctors never did find out what was wrong with you, and then the symptoms disappeared.”
“But I was sick.” She stood up. “You made me sick. You made me into this… this… you were…”
“I know.” He pushed off the wall and grabbed her by the shoulders. “You think I don’t regret every single thing I did then, every single day of my life? That thing , the watch, ruined my family. I let you go because I screwed up so badly I believed that was the best decision. You were better off with your mom until I figured things out.” He let her go and turned away, massaging his forehead. “But I never fixed it. I never got you back.”
Shaking, Emily hugged herself.
Dad turned back to her. “Emily, please. Listen to me. I know how exciting it sounds. I know how it feels. But that thing will bring you nothing but misery. Wherever this power comes from, we’re not fit to control it. Eventually, you’re bound to mess up. I can’t let you do that. So, please, take that thing somewhere and destroy it. Smash it, burn it, whatever you can—just make it unusable.”
“But—”
“You have to. Please.”
She glanced at the watch. It hadn’t done anything to her so far. Save for the headaches when she was getting adjusted, nothing had gone wrong.
Except Hartford. That one was close. What if she’d lost the watch, and the police had taken her?
What if in any of those attempts, and when she was trying to save Mama, she’d end up like that coworker of Dad’s?
The door flung open, and both Emily and her dad jumped.
“Well. Benjamin.” Nicky crossed her hands under her chest. “Color me surprised.”
Dad took a moment to collect himself. “I’m not sure you need any more colors.” He and Nicky fell into a strange predatory, circling dance as they changed positions so Dad was by the door, and Nicky moved closer to the hospital bed. “I’ve taken enough of your time,” Dad said in a vague direction that could mean either Emily or Mama. And then, definitely at Emily, “Think about it.” He nodded to Nicky and closed the door behind him.
“Think about what?”
“Nothing.” Emily put the watch into her bag but didn’t let go of it. “Maybe he’ll come around for the spring break. I’m gonna get some cocoa.” She slipped out before her aunt could interrogate her further.
Think about it —destroying the watch. She brushed the smooth lid as she passed down the hallways toward the exit. The first breath of the outside air cleared her thoughts, rejuvenating her as if she’d gotten out of a long illness.
She still had no idea how the diary and the watch found their way to her, but in one thing, she believed Dad. The watch could ruin. It had already ruined her family. Then it gave her hope she could fix Mama’s accident, and took that away, too.
Emily looked around. A construction crew had left an open van nearby with some tools. She picked up a hammer, laid the watch on the pavement and knelt beside it. She mimicked the motion with the hammer a few times.
There would be no more time travel if she did this.
But what good was time travel, when she couldn’t fix anything?
A thin ray of sun burst from the clouds, gleaming on the polished golden surface. No, no, you’re not going to convince me. She raised the hammer, her hand lightly shaking.
“No! Don’t!”
She raised her eyes and almost dropped the hammer in surprise.
Holy shit . It was the ghost.