The Time Witch - Part #16

Recap: Evangeline ran to her time traveling tunnel, hoping to escape back to 1910 and Samuel. She feared another coven attack, but the bracelet locked onto Evangeline’s wrist kept her from going thru the tunnel to Samuel. The couple spoke, however, sharing a clue for Evangeline to find help.

LINKS: The Beginning, Last Part (#15), Time Witch page

Short on time? Scan the story and just read the Bold parts to get the gist of the story. Then come back later and read the whole thing!

---

“Ask me that question again!”

Evangeline had no patience for Mabel’s attitude. She’d returned to the Covington-York mansion because she didn’t know where else to go.

Mabel squinted at Evangeline through the screen door, not completely understanding her request. “Where’s your irritating friend?”

“She had an errand to run,” Evangeline hissed, “plus she didn’t want to see you. Go figure.”

The older woman stood her ground, taking no offense. She blocked the door’s opening with her body. No offer to enter. “Knew you’d come back. You have that annoying way about you.”

“Repeat the question.”

Lips pursed and eyes steely, Mabel held tight to her cane. “If I told you that time pushes back, what would you say?”

“We push harder.” Evangeline knew she was right but held her breath.

Mabel seemed to do the same. She let it out in relief and turned away from the door. “Follow me.”

A little deflated, as she expected a bigger reaction, Evangeline obeyed the terse order. She entered, realizing it was up to her to shut the heavy door and maneuver around a rather large, sleeping cat.

It’s half moose, Evangeline thought, concerned that a stranger didn’t even disturb its nap.

The thump, thump of Mabel’s cane echoed along the hall, getting softer. Not that she moved fast, but she turned a corner to the back of the house, suddenly out of sight. Evangeline locked the front door and hurried to catch up.

“I know what they say about me,” Mabel complained, continuing to some location yet to be revealed.

Does she really expect me to fall for asking what they say? Evangeline didn’t dare.

The back hallway was dim and foreboding, like the front portion; however, it was only a tiny part of the Victorian’s rambling layout. All the doors leading off it were shut tight, making their footsteps echo. Who knew what was hiding beyond each door? Evangeline thought it was probably mahogany furniture draped with white muslin and enough knickknacks to fill an antique store.

“They say I’m cuckoo-crazy,” Mabel said, continuing the one-sided conversation. “It’s not me that’s crazy; it’s keeping the secret.”

“The secret?” Evangeline asked, checking out a framed photograph on the hallway wall. Anywhere else, it would be called vintage. It showed a line of stern-faced men standing before a mining site. She searched their faces, but none of them were Samuel. Distracted by the picture, she almost stumbled over another cat sprawled in her path. It meowed to be petted. Evangeline ignored the urge to comply. “What secret?”

Mabel grunted under her breath. “It’s all in the room.” She stopped at a door at the end of the hallway. “It’s been kept ready for you.”

Unsure what that meant, Evangeline held back, but something stirred around her--the air almost electric. It grew stronger, pushing at her and gently guiding her toward the door. As Mabel opened it, the air sucked toward the threshold, reacting like decades of pressure had finally been released. Stepping to one side, Mabel motioned for Evangeline to enter first.

Beyond the opening, a soft sense of yellow greeted her. It reminded her of the front sitting room but with a more gender-neutral application. No flowers on the wallpaper here. It was brighter, as if the sun made a wish and coated the room in lines of radiant gossamer.

“Go on, get in there,” Mabel barked, breaking the magical moment.

With a couple of quick steps, Evangeline entered the room. Her glance darted around, taking it all in. On one side, a sleeping chamber with a twin-sized sleigh bed, a wardrobe with a large oval mirror, and a big overstuffed navy blue chair. The other side of the room contained a sitting area with a turn-of-the-century settee and table. On it was a fine Meissen porcelain tea set, ready for service. Its delicate floral pattern leaned on tan coloring with splashes of blue. The only things missing were tiny cucumber sandwiches, sweetmeats, and petit four cakes.

“Oh!” Evangeline exclaimed, unable to notice much beyond the bookcase tucked in a corner with a secretary’s desk. A few titles caught her eye. “Is that a first edition Mark Twain?”

“I’ll leave you to explore,” Mabel said, a bit bored. “I have a bottle of champagne waiting. It’s a bottle that’s rarer than your book there. Passed down through the generations to celebrate this very day. Finally!”

“Excuse me?” Evangeline turned to the older woman, realization dawning. “You have been waiting for me? Your whole family’s been waiting… for me?”

The overwhelming revelation caught up to her. It just didn’t seem possible. She’d just expected some note, not a room. Not part of their house. All of this had been planned and carried out for a hundred and fourteen years, Evangeline thought, feeling the weight of it. All before it had gone terribly wrong. All before I failed Samuel.

Mabel raised a hand marked with arthritis, pointing a crooked finger. “It’s all in the note, and the estate keys are hung on the wall. Come and go as you please. And that front door is heavy, so I’d recommend the kitchen door for everyday use.” She turned, suddenly weary.

Unable to just let her go, Evangeline wanted to make her stay and have a heart-to-heart. “Wait, wait, uh, please?” The plea cracked with emotion.

Any kind heart would be compelled to obey. Anyone but Mabel. The woman shuffled her feet as she headed into the hallway, cane thumping a steady beat.

“But I don’t understand,” Evangeline called after her. “I mean, I have questions. Won’t you stay? Talk with me a bit?”

“The note!” Mabel snapped. Her voice reverberated in the hallway.

Evangeline stepped out into the hall. “Please.”

Mabel stopped but didn’t turn.

“Of course, I’ll read the note,” Evangeline said, “but you know all about me and Samuel, right?” She held her breath, unable to believe she’d found someone who knew the truth. Could Mabel tell her how it had gone wrong? Help her understand. “Won’t you at least say it out loud? Once? Maybe you’ve been raised to think this is normal, but don’t you understand how fantastic it is? I mean, this is really happening, and I need to know… why me?”

Evangeline wasn’t sure if she was ready for the answer, especially if she was a witch. Or some other magical being. However, nothing good could come from ignoring the truth. She’d never be able to save Samuel—Good Samuel and Bad Samuel—if she didn’t know. I have to stop calling him that, she vowed. He’s not bad. He’s angry, disappointed, distraught.

Mabel sucked in a deep breath and leaned on her cane. She half-turned toward the younger woman. Her features softened. “We will speak of this many times, I have no doubt, my dear. I’m a bit overwhelmed, myself. You see, even though I’ve known about this my whole life and had suspicions about you, I had not known for sure until you uttered those words. And no matter what my family has said or passed down, it has not made it easier to understand.”

Realizing Mabel must be going through her own epiphany, Evangeline gave a little nod of acceptance. They would talk more later.

“The note. It should explain,” Mabel offered, sounding like she was just guessing. “I’ve not read it. No one in the family has read it. I have visited the room from time to time. We all have. He wanted it to feel lived in, not like a museum waiting for its first visitor. We’ve all contributed to the contents, but he did this. Yes, he did this for you. Your Samuel.”

Evangeline glanced at the room again, large by any standards. Every inch gave her a mile of joy. Having been left a note was one thing, but a whole room and keys to the mansion? She could barely wrap her head around that one. Does it mean we actually built something together? she wondered. Until I screwed it all up? How many generations had been waiting for her appearance? How many had she let down? 

“All these years, and I show up. Who could you have been expecting?”

“The great debate,” Mabel chuckled, brightening a bit. “I can tell you that I was wrong. You’re not what I expected. Everyone in the family had an opinion and hoped for you to come within their lifetime. Still, I always knew I’d be the one to actually see you. A journal has been kept, you see, with the theories. How they cursed when their time passed, and they left this world keeping the secret but never witnessing the end. A few ancestors wrote as if they’d been waiting for an angel. I guess nothing could live up to so many years of anticipation.”

“But I’m not what you expected?” Evangeline’s flaws felt like open sores. How could anyone expect her?

“You’re younger than I imagined but smarter.” She chuckled again. “I don’t know exactly why, but probably like a game of telephone, the words used to describe you have shifted meaning over time. There seemed to be something said about your beauty, but they should have talked about your eyes. Clever eyes.”

She made it sound, at least to Evangeline like someone in the family other than Samuel had met her. Charles, perhaps? That person’s glowing assessment had been the one they’d clung to and passed along through the generations.

“How are you related to him?” Evangeline didn’t want to say Samuel’s name, half expecting his ghost to materialize.

“You know about Charles, Samuel’s younger brother. I come from his line.” Mabel smiled at the irony. “A confirmed bachelor that everyone wanted to marry. You’ll find out about that; however, he would have none of those silly girls. Until… he had to help Samuel span the space of time. So, Charles married Lenora to create this legacy.”

“Lenora Livingston!” Evangeline interrupted. She remembered the uppity lady that visited Samuel’s construction site. 

“You’ve met her already?” Mabel clucked her tongue. “Well, her and Charles’s descendants have maintained this house for your arrival.”

Evangeline had to rethink her feelings about Lenora.

“It’s quite a legacy,” Mabel added. “Charles never would have married but for you. We owe this branch of the family and our lives to a girl who bought an old Carnegie library.”

The astonishing revelation left Evangeline speechless. She didn’t know what to say or how she could have inspired anyone to take such life-altering actions. She felt more like a fraud than ever. They’d all put their faith in her, starting with Good Samuel, and she’d destroyed it all.

“Despite the secret, it’s been a good life.” With a wistful expression, Mabel bowed and continued down the hallway. “Tea is served in the kitchen at any time of the day if you really want company. Can’t promise the champagne will last long.”

“Thank you,” Evangeline called after the woman, shocked that Mabel wasn’t as hard-hearted as she first appeared. She even detected a misty glaze in her eyes before the woman departed. Vowing to stay on the right side of Mabel Covington-York, Evangeline felt the only thing she’d done right so far was to keep her mistakes to herself. At least the results of her mistakes. She still had no idea where or when she went—goes?—wrong.

Evangeline stepped back into the bedroom and gently closed the suite’s door. She leaned against it, taking in the scope of what Samuel had done. Could he have created the room in 1910 and compelled his family to care for it until she arrived? The evidence was before her, but it seemed impossible. Perhaps even more magical than any of the magic she’d witnessed.

Oddly, being alone in the room felt natural and peaceful. This is Good Samuel’s doing, Evangeline thought and decided to breathe again. She took her time to check out the books, run a finger along the dresser, sit on the comfy bed, and pick up a dainty teacup for a fake sip.

“You did this for me?”

She paused, letting the question linger in her mind. Good Samuel was in every part of this room. Maybe he’d appear if she calmed her breathing and waited for an answer. He didn’t, but she felt better.

“Guess I should read the note.”

Evangeline went over to the secretary’s desk. Next to an ink well, an aged envelope waited. Scrawled across the front with a heavy hand, one word: Sweet One. She picked it up and held it for a moment.

The envelope had little weight to it. Probably only one folded page inside. She’d expected more. It already felt like enough had happened that he could have written a book!

Pacing a few steps, Evangeline stopped in the middle of the room, knowing that once she opened the envelope, there would be no turning back. You don’t write a note for someone, knowing it will take several lifetimes to be delivered, and not say something meaningful. It could contain anything. A reprimand? A curse? A dying wish? An expression from the heart?

Thinking through all the things that could be in the letter, Evangeline caught her reflection in the oval wardrobe mirror. Behind her, a shimmering image appeared—Samuel!

Subscribe to get next Tuesday’s episode emailed to you!