The Time Witch - Part 19
Recap: Evangeline learns from Mabel that the Wedding Pact was a secret from the descendants, and Lenora had an “illness” that might account for why Evangeline saw her transform into Adas Abernathy.
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!
LINKS: The Beginning, Last Part (#18), Time Witch page
“Time stopped!”
Evangeline blurted out. She couldn’t tell anyone if she couldn’t admit it to Samuel’s descendant.
The older woman set down her tea cup with a chuckle. “Was that a little tangle between you and the coven last night?”
“That was me,” Evangeline said. “How did you know? Is that the time thing you mentioned? Something you’d put in the family journal?”
Mable nodded in agreement.
Sitting back in her chair, Evangeline noted Mabel’s smokey-colored eyes. She’d never seen that exact hue. “Have I tangled with the coven before?”
“Indeed,” Mabel answered cryptically. “What happened last night?”
Evangeline couldn’t hold back a sound of derision. “The coven are a bunch of little witches.” She shook her head, remembering the encounter with Nixie. “I met one. We talked. It didn’t go well.” A flash of embarrassment washed over her, but she kept the bracelet out of sight, still smarting from the failure. “Any advice?”
“Afraid, not,” Mabel said, “except that they aren’t against you. Not in the sense you would think. They are, however, a complicated hindrance. Don’t let the coven distract you.”
Evangeline had no plans to downgrade the witches. Her pride demanded revenge.
“Do you know how I was able to go back in time?” Evangeline had to ask. Of all the things she needed to know, it ranked high.
Mabel considered the question. She hemmed and hawed, an inner debate raging. Evangeline could see it on the woman’s strained face. She braced herself for a flat refusal.
“The answer you want isn’t one I really know,” Mabel said carefully, “because it was a mystery to Charles. He wrote about it with much wonder. He wanted to know more, as well. He concluded that you and time were on different terms than the rest of us.”
Raising a hand as if she could pull at the air and get more information, Evangeline begged, “That’s it? That doesn’t even make sense.” She’d rather read Charles’s journal and search for something Mabel wouldn’t have noticed. She’d subject it to infrared light or lemon juice and heat.
When did finding an easy answer become my hope? she wondered, not feeling good about anything she’d learned. Nothing stood out as the next best move; it was just a bunch of maybes. She needed a clear strategy to outwit the coven and get her back to Samuel.
“Don’t let your face settle into that frown,” Mabel warned. “It’s not pretty.”
“Neither is this,” Evangeline decided she couldn’t keep it from Mabel any longer. She held up her wrist to show off the bracelet. “It’s keeping me from going back to Samuel.”
With a soft hum, Mabel waved her fingers, beaconing Evangeline closer to inspect the jewelry. “Is this what happened last night?”
“Yes.” Evangeline’s stomach churned, making her glad she hadn’t eaten much. It would be hard to keep it down. “The witch got this on me and would have gotten another on my other wrist, but I stopped time.”
Mabel took the revelation in stride, but the twinkle in her eye brightened. She seemed proud.
“Time worked for you,” she said, expecting a matching gleeful response. When none came, she finally noticed Evangeline’s stress. It softened her a bit, enough to lean forward and poke the younger woman’s forearm with a finger. “I know it seems like the end of the world. It’s not. Now, shush a moment. I want to tell you something about Samuel Covington-York.”
“Will it help?”
“Listen and judge.” Mabel grimaced.
Evangeline reluctantly reached for more tea. “Something Charles wrote in his journal?”
Mabel nodded. “It is so much more than a journal. He brought history alive. You see, he cared, deeply. A man after my own heart.” For the second time, she glowed, completely in awe of her long-ago relative. “Now, dear Charles, assumed Samuel went through the tunnel with you. Perhaps he will, one day. As you’ve pointed out, the story hasn’t finished.” She scrunched her nose, hoping Evangeline would confirm Samuel’s fate would eventually fulfill her dear great-grandfather’s assumption.
“I hope Charles is proven right,” Evangeline said, not wanting to point out that Samuel hadn’t been able to pass through the tunnel. “He hasn’t just yet.”
“Of course, it hasn’t happened yet,” Mabel barked with a familiar spark of sour apples.
Evangeline sighed, wondering why every conversation with the woman had as much forward progress as back. “What else did Charles write about Samuel?”
Mabel stuck her nose in the air. “He feared that the library was Samuel’s downfall.”
“The library?”
“I’m not saying it right. Let me think.” Mabel stared at the ceiling. She hummed to herself as if recalling a song. “There was a limerick. I don’t believe Charles wrote it, though he put it in the journal.”
“A limerick?”
“They were popular back then,” Mabel said. “Haven’t you ever read the Book of Nonsense by Edward Lear?”
Evangeline couldn’t say that she had… although she’d had a strange encounter with a red-covered limerick book. The one that hid a tintype photo of her and Adas Abernathy. Does the book also hold some meaning? Evangeline vowed to find out. “Can’t you just get the journal and read it to me?”
A threatening glare overtook Mabel’s features as if she expected Evangeline to snatch the book out of her hands if she produced it.
“Just a suggestion,” Evangeline said, meaning no harm.
With a little more thought, Mabel snapped her fingers. “Ah! It went something like… ‘There once was a man with a book. It told of the things they forsook. Until he went missing. And all were dismissing. The man with a gibfaced look.’”
Evangeline nodded slowly, not sure how that really helped. “What’s gibfaced?”
“I forget. Look it up,” Mabel groused. “Don’t you own a library?”
Frustration appeared to be contagious.
Evangeline raised a hand, hoping to quell any offense. “It’s interesting. Thank you, but I need something a little more solid to go on,” she admitted. She sat back in her chair, staring off in the distance. Through the kitchen window, she could see the bluff. The mansion sat on a prime piece of real estate. It must have stunning views from the upper floors of the house. “Does your home have a widow’s walk?”
“Status symbol, you could say,” Mabel commented. “What makes you ask?”
Evangeline shrugged. She had no idea. “Just a thought.”
“Careful of those stray thoughts.” Mabel winked at her.
Not understanding the teasing comment, Evangeline figured it was either a joke or a warning. “What do you mean? All I’ve done is follow my thoughts… and my heart.”
Mabel got a faraway gleam in her eyes as if recalling a dear memory. “I think this could be when it happens. Oh my, how exciting!”
“What happens?” Evangeline asked, feeling a surge of hope.
With a clap of her hands, Mabel sat back in her chair. “I can’t tell you that! When will you learn, child? Wait! You do understand, right, that much of what is in Charles’s journal is what you told him. So, if you get anything, get that. You must tell Charles everything!”
About to complain, the image of the mansion’s widow’s walk appeared in Evangeline’s mind. It looked real as if she were standing on the roof. It split her vision between the lookout and the kitchen. Seeing both at once had a dizzying effect.
Mabel nodded, saying something about a winding stairway leading to the attic access door. Evangeline stood unsteady but braced her hand on the table, taking a moment before heading for the hall. An unseen force tugged her in the right direction as if she had a rendezvous set for that moment. A date she’d made a long, long time ago.
“Excuse me,” she mumbled, abruptly leaving the kitchen.
Mabel sighed over her tea, seeming not to mind.
Evangeline made her way through the mansion, feeling like her feet hardly touched the ground. She practically glided to the winding metal staircase, heading up the tight curving space that opened to a roof access door. She opened it without thinking about how the latch worked and stepped out into blinding sunlight. Two steps forward had her stumbling into the balustrade. It wrapped around the mansion’s roof—the widow’s walk—a railed viewing platform, so named for wives watching in vain for their mariner husbands’ return.
The widow’s walk allowed an unobstructed view of the jagged bluff and the sparkling Pacific Ocean beyond. The sounds of nature and a soft breeze calmed Evangeline’s senses as she shook off the trance-like state that had led her to the roof. Taking a deep breath, she felt more like herself. The fresh air revived her.
What was that? she wondered, unsure of the power that had taken over and brought her to the roof. Not that she needed long to figure out the answer. A warm sensation wrapped around her, and she knew she wasn’t alone.
Sweet One.
The term of endearment held a sour note. At least, it did for Evangeline. She didn’t trust Samuel’s ghost. She couldn’t, not after the last time. “If this is round two, I’m not interested,” she said, uncertain if she was just talking to herself. A slight breeze stirred the air but in a natural way. She couldn’t tell if he was up there with her or just in her head.
Afraid to turn around and look for a faint image, Evangeline took in the stunning vista instead. “What do you want?”
Family.
She swore the words were spoken. “Your family has been wonderful.”
Your family.
“My family?” Evangeline said, frustrated. She spun around, but no one was there. With a small sigh, she closed her eyes.
Your family. Your magic.
It was only a whisper in the wind, but it held more meaning than any gossip or tea-time chat. Her family history was a nightmare. However, if it had all gone wrong because of magic…
“But they’re all dead.”
Not all.
If the key to understanding time and outwitting the coven hinged on reconnecting with lost family, Evangeline felt doomed. She recalled her parents falling out with an uncle but had no expectations that he was still alive or how to contact him. Leave it to an angry ghost to give her an impossible task.