The verythought of living a life of secrets and lies was unbearable. I’dlost very little when I first traveled back in time. Just a boring, blank page in mylife’s story. But back there, back with Henry and Finn and thecrew… my story began to write itself and the pages were alive withvibrancy. Now, I had to rip those entries out and pretend they’dnever happened, to fill in the blanks for everyone around me andlive a lie. I had to raise a child who’d never know their father,or that they were conceived 300 years ago.
I laid on acold floor, darkness all around me as the weight of the concreteslab slowly squeezed the life from my body. I wondered if that washow my mother felt all those years? To be stuck in the future, sofar away from her home and life. Did she really love my father? Didshe love me? I shook the impossibility from my brain. Ofcourse, she loved me. I knew itlike I knew blood flowed in my veins. But she’d spent the betterpart of my life searching for a way home. That house, my house, amuseum of archived things; trinkets, books, scrolls, enchanteditems… if there were a way back she would have surely found it,wouldn’t she?
Suddenly, abright yellow light sparked to life on the edge of my vision. Icraned my neck to see it. As the light grew and spread, an image ofa room appeared. My mother’s office. The light filled the darkspace of my empty dream and the concrete slab slowly melted away. Istood and walked toward the center of the glow and stepped into theroom. Surrounded by boxes and chests, a realization dawned onme.
A way back.
If there werea way to get back to Henry, the answer would be there, amongst mymother’s things. Maybe Mom just never got the chance to searchthrough it all before she died. It’s there, it has to be there. Ifelt a hand gently caress mine as it took my fingers and twistedthem in theirs. I looked to find my mother, standing by myside.
“You canfind it, baby,” her music-box voice told me. “Find a wayback.”
An odd senseof hope-filled my chest and the room became too bright for my eyes.My mother and everything aroundme imploded with the never-endingglow and I was dragged to the surface of reality. But I didn’tmind, I carried with me the hope of getting back to everything, tomy life.
Back toHenry.
***
I awoke with astrange burst of energy, my mission bright and clear in my mind.Get out, go back to Rocky Harbour, find a way home. I repeated thatover and over all morning while the kind nurse helped me bathe andget dressed. Waiting for Aunt Mary to show up was killing me. Therewas nothing keeping me there, I had to go.
I sat uprightin bed, freshly dressed and ready to go, my insides bouncing withexcitement because I knew Mary would have completed the seven-hour drive any moment. It was sometimeafter lunch when I heard footsteps approaching outside my opendoor, the distinct sound of Mary’s voice speaking to someone, andtore the blanket off my legs to hop out of bed. But my joy wascrushed when I saw who she brought with her.
“John?” Isqueaked, my blood running cold as I slowly slipped from thehospital bed.
He entered theroom behind a guilty-looking Mary and lunged forward to embrace me.His big arms held me, and I was frozen, stunned, totally confusedat what was happening.
“Jesus,Dianna, where have you been? We’ve been worried sick.” Finally, hepulled away to look at my face and, I swear, seemed as if he wereabout to kiss me.
Dodging thegesture, I wiggled from his grip and stepped back. “What are youdoing here?”
“He came withme,” Mary spoke up. “After you went missing, I called John fromyour cell phone to see if you’dmaybe skipped off back to Alberta or something. After a couple ofdays, when you never turned up, John flew down to help with thesearch.”
I failed tohide the confusion and disgust on my face. “Search?”
Mary put ahand on my good shoulder. “Yes, dear. Dianna, you’ve been gonenearly a month, no trace of where. No note. Nothing. My God,where have you been?”
I backed awayand shook my head. It was too much. “I-I don’t–”
“Dianna hasexperienced some trauma,” the doctor piped in. “Her memory of whathappened could be foggy, at best. I’d advise you to take her home,let her rest, recover. She’s been through a great deal, and she’llput all the pieces together on her own terms. In time.”
I couldn’tlook any of them in the face. The doctor was right, I’d beenthrough a lot. But I remembered it all, the memories as sharp asthe blade that had cut through me.
After thedoctor signed my release papers, the nurse gathered my things in alarge plastic hospital bag and handed them to Mary. My aunt openedthe bag and peered in, and I knew the sight of my dirty pirate’scoat and old trinkets would arouse questions. She reached in andbegan to pull out a gold chain, the one that held a large rubystone and I snatched the bag from her hands.
I hugged theplastic satchel tightly to my chest with my good arm, the salt ofthe sea and the stench of The Devil’s Heart wafting up to my nose.The sensation brought tears to my eyes. All that remained of thelife I left behind was held within it. John tried to be chivalrousand take the large, heavy bag for me, but I held on like a crazedjunkie.
The whole wayhome was like that; John trying to be nice, doing things for me.Racing ahead to open doors, helping me into Mary’s car, putting onmy seatbelt. I refused to speak to him, the sting of our breakupnever healed, I never got closure, and now he was picking at thescab I never realize had formed. I sat in the backseat, theprecious bag
