The Time Witch - Part 6

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Time Witch page

Recap: Evangeline proves to herself that the Carnegie Library is connected to the past, when she goes back in time again to 1910.

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!

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“Wow. Baxter Creek in 1910.”

Evangeline scanned the countryside, taking in the surroundings with new eyes. It caused a tingle that started in her toes. SHE did this. SHE traveled through time.

“What year should it be?” Lenora asked, with just the right amount of acid mingled with clipped diction. “Do enlighten us with a wit that matches your foppish attire.”

“Lenora, please,” Samuel begged forbearance.

Polite silence, unfortunately, created a slant to Lenora’s mouth that could only be called ugly. It mirrored her piercing stare, which raked the length of Evangeline’s body. If a man had ogled her that way, she’d have thrown a drink in his face.

Patience. Evangeline tried counting silently to ten, not that it had ever worked for her. She needed to make concessions. She just expected past-people to be a little more polite. Past people? The phrase tickled like a memory. Is this what my parents were hiding from me?

Without thinking, Evangeline slipped her cell phone out of a back pocket and snapped several pictures. 

“What have you there?” Samuel came forward to get a better look.

“Nothing.” Evangeline quickly tucked it out of sight.

“Let’s have a peek,” Lenora insisted, shifting her parasol to her other shoulder. “I dare say that you owe us some explanation for popping into our lives and disrupting such a pleasant day.”

“You dare say?” Evangeline couldn’t tell, but the phrase felt like fighting words.

Lenora cocked her head ever so slightly to the right, toward her parasol. The move briefly hid her face from Samuel but not Evangeline. The lady’s stare was full of venom. Stamping her foot, she raised her voice. “I insist. Show me that gadget.”

Evangeline smiled. “If you can take it from me, you can see it.”

And those were fighting words!

Fumbling for an appropriate response, Lenora glanced at Samuel for help. He wasn’t paying any attention to her. “Samuel, my darling, where did you find this creature?”

“She found me.”

With a musical laugh, sounding completely fake, Lenora walked away from Evangeline but moved closer to Samuel. “I had hoped you’d call at the house today. Such a pity, pity, pity.” With each repetition, her top lip scrunched upward revealing more teeth.

“I’ve been busy.” He offered her a grim expression, like a man running from a noose. Or a wedding ring.

“Oh, I beg your pardon,” Lenora said, with sickly syrup coating the words. “Far be it from me to impose on your little business. I had only wished to add some comfort to your ho-hum day.”

She fluttered long eyelashes at him.

If Evangeline didn’t know better, Lenora assumed a connection that didn’t appear consensual. Samuel took a step away, adding distance, a buffer, but she shadowed him, getting closer. It was an awkward dance, at least to Evangeline. She couldn’t watch without thinking about how times had luckily changed—from when marriage was the ultimate goal. The only goal.

“A man isn’t a prize,” Evangeline blurted out. “He does not define you.”

The air between the women turned electric.

Lenora pulled herself up to her full height of 5’4” and squared her petite shoulders. “I’ll have you know, Miss, the Gilded Age may be over for most, but not for you.”

“Huh?” Evangeline didn’t understand.

“You glitter on the outside but are surely corrupt underneath.” 

“I’m assuming that’s a smokin’ insult.” Evangeline tried for a neutral expression. She failed but knew she had no right to pop into the past and start a feud. She went to Lenora, eyes lowered in respect. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was trying to be supportive. Don’t you think being a woman is hard enough without turning on each other?”

The petite lady softened. “Perhaps.” She still sounded offended.

Evangeline stuck out her hand. “Truce?”

Sucking in a long breath as if it were a chore, Lenora shot a look in Samuel’s direction. She made a soft twittering sound. “I abhor crosswords and am the epitome of goodwill and politeness.” Her smile was only for Samuel as she reached her hand to shake on the truce.

When their hands touched…

A flash blinded Evangeline. Her vision clouded, displaced for a long second. Time hung in the balance. Everything tilted, off balance. Time moved backward, if at all, and she was no longer in Baxter Creek. She stood in a void of white. Before her stood the man from the tintype photograph. The one that fell out of the red limerick book. The one with the unhappy couple. The one with him and her.

The man was there, but not there. It was like peering through a dirty window. Another flash blinded her, transporting her again. She blinked rapidly, recovering from the bright flare to find herself standing on a sidewalk in front of a shop window. The Tintype Man was inside. He turned, as if sensing her, scowling to be caught in the shop. Bowls of dried flowers, incense, and potion bottles lined the shelves.

“You have come to me,” he hissed, recovering, revealing his hidden pleasure. 

Another flash and he was beside her on the sidewalk. She staggered back, but he advanced—wickedly fast—slapping a hand toward her face.

Evangeline gasped, bringing her hands up to block the blow…

…but it never hit her. The world spun around, dizzying until it settled on the startled eyes of Lenora. She grimaced.

“I have never been so insulted.” The proper lady pointed outraged eyes at Evangeline’s hand.

In it… a white, lace glove. Lenora’s glove. Evangeline had a death grip on it. The glove’s lacy fingers were crushed in her hand, as if she’d pulled it off—and since one of Lenora’s hands was bare and the other wore the matching glove…

“Oh! What happened?” Evangeline asked, shocked to realized she’d lost a bit of time.

“Your peace offer was only a ruse,” Lenora said accusingly. “As soon as we touched, you ripped off my glove, exposing me to the harsh sun. I hardly know if I have enough lotion to counter the damaging effects. Exposing a lady to the sun is the worst of all the insults. All your pretty talk turned to lies.”

Evangeline didn’t know what to say. She had the feeling that the hallucination had somehow mixed up the Tintype Man’s attack with Lenora’s handshake, but she couldn’t explain it.

“I’m sorry?” Evangeline didn’t sound convincing. It was hard, since someone did try to hit her, not that anyone else saw it. Trying to explain her actions felt like a lost cause. The flash—or vision—had seemed so real, yet whatever she’d seen clearly hadn’t been visible to anyone else.

She glanced at Samuel, and he stepped forward. “A misunderstanding. No harm meant.”  

Evangeline struggled with what to even call it. Some kind of out-of-body experience? she thought. Triggered when I touched Lenora’s hand? She didn’t understand and had no idea how to calm down an insulted woman from 1910.

Lenora’s nostrils flared.

Evangeline blinked. For the briefest moment, the face of the Tintype Man replaced Lenora’s. His haunting eyes lingered even after her face returned to normal. 

Oooh, don’t stare, don’t stare. Evangeline froze, afraid she’d be transported to the awful man again.

Lenora turned on one heel, heading back to her horse and buggy. Just before climbing aboard, she turned to impart one last bit of vicious wisdom. “Careful, Samuel, this one will lead you to ruin!”

“Not a word.” Grabbing her elbow, Samuel pulled Evangeline away from the street toward the library’s front steps. He didn’t say anything else until he got her inside the building. “Speak up now, lass, and tell me what this is all about.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Evangeline asked. “I’m having a moment, and Lenora is the worst.”

Samuel groaned, puffing air out of his mouth in frustration. “Lenora is Lenora.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“A lady is given allowances,” he said as if the explanation should suffice.

The designation of ‘lady’ bothered Evangeline. How does he see me? She didn’t want the antiquated title, but she couldn’t think of any positive ones to take its place, at least not in 1910’s sensibilities. Lord, lady, nobility, spinster, street urchin, whore? She tried recalling anything by Jane Austen, although those books were set 90 years too early.

Convinced time travel had rules, Evangeline decided to let it go. The last thing she needed was a feud with a silly lady. Is that what I’ve done? Regret rushed over her.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you and insulted her.” Evangeline realized she wasn’t really sorry about Lenora. “But if she was a tune, it would be way off.”

He couldn’t disagree. “I find it best to treat her like a snake without fangs.”

Evangeline pressed her lips together to swallow a laugh, but a soft humpf escaped.

It did nothing to deter Samuel. “If I know anything—and I assure you that I know quite a bit of the world—I know that you do not belong here.”

She frowned. “You want me to go?”

“No!” he spat out the word. “I want to know who you are, Miss Evangeline!”

“Just Evangeline,” she said. “I’m sorry about Lenora, but something weird happened when we touched hands. I saw a man.”

He nodded, but not in understanding. “Lenora took on the appearance of a gentleman?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Evangeline shrugged. “It’s confusing.”

Samuel reached forward and took her hand. “Just speak of what you witnessed.”

She did her best to describe the man, the shop she’d seen him in, and how his words completely creeped her out.

“I know this man,” Samuel admitted, his tone grave. “If he has come to you in such a way, you must take great care. He steals souls.”

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Next installment in a week!