Time Drifters

I heard an owl in a tree at the corner of the Monsignor’s mansion. I saw Barkley turn on the steps while his ears perked up. But he was soon surrounded by the others and unable to make a getaway. He had just enough time to tip his head, urging me to investigate before he was ushered inside. With the noise of the carriage as a distraction, I scooted closer to the building and ran around the corner.

I wandered over to the tree and looked up, only seeing long pieces of pale moss hanging like strands of seaweed dangling on a ship’s anchor. The call of the owl came again, but from farther into the trees. I was more tentative as I stepped, not wanting to be discovered by anyone before I knew it was Rufus. I’d barely heard a snap of a twig behind me when I felt a hand over my mouth.

“Gotcha,” Rufus said, giggling. “Gettin’ better, huh?”

“Ooo, yeah,” I said sarcastically. “Almost thought it was Walker, Sr. for a minute.”

He frowned. “I’ll show you some good trackin’, Mr. Wise Guy.”

He led me a short ways to the back of a carriage house on the adjacent property. Capucine was standing with Isaac while he stalked a grasshopper, laughing each time it leapt to the next blade of tall grass. She saw us coming but didn’t flinch.

“I’ve got some good news,” I said. “Tomorrow morning, you’re going with Isaac and Aurie to get something nice to wear for the Contessa’s party. Probably a very pretty dress, judging by her ladyship’s tastes.”

“The Monsignor will probably make me sell it,” Capucine said.

“You can still wear it for one night,” Rufus observed.

“Cendrillon,” she said. “Cinderella, in English. Each of you is like the clock, striking eleven times. And then I stand alone at midnight, with you disappearing.”

“They want to see where Sister Vellena keeps the Post,” I said straight out, figuring we might not have long alone before others came.

“Oh, no, you must not,” Capucine said, alarmed.

“It’s not just you, Capucine,” I said quickly, sensing she wanted to run away. “It’s all of us. We’re all in danger if there’s something’s not right. If even one postmaster does something wrong, it could mess up everything.”

“Mais, c’est fou, ça!” she muttered. “Folly… that so much could depend on just one person.”

“You said this was a big country,” I said. “Is there someone else that the Sister writes to, or someone she meets with?”

“She has books, from Europe,” she said. “Secret things. Many languages. I am learning different ones, hoping to be prepared to read these books. She said she will share them, when I no longer Drift.”

“What about our Station, in Illinois… up from Kentucky?” Rufus asked. “Do you speak to anyone there?”

“Or Albuquerque?” I asked. “Francesca’s from there.”

“We have Post with names of places that I don’t know,” Capucine said. “But can you not see that it is wrong for me to speak them?”

“Capucine, you have to believe we would never…”

“I do not doubt that you care, Liam,” she said. “Monsignor does not bleed me now. I have you to credit for that. You and Isaac.”

We looked over at the boy who was approaching us with his hands cupped together.

“You have a special connection with him,” I said. “And the Contessa, she seems to care.”

“He listens to me because I’m nice to him,” Capucine said. “The Monsignor only frightens him, with the pantry key and his special room. The Contessa gives Monsignor money because Isaac is here. His parents were burned in a fire at a cotton gin. It was one of the Contessa’s. It is why he cannot hear, because of the explosion.”

She played along with Isaac’s game, peering forward while he opened his hands. The grasshopper twitched on his open palms, testing freedom and then jumped. Capucine squealed with delight and applauded while Isaac laughed.

“Fee.. fee,” he said, spinning around with his hands raised to the sky. Rufus pointed out where the grasshopper had landed, but Isaac spotted two more on his own.

“Everyone says that he is sick, but I think he is just lonely and, nostalgic? Homesick?” she said looking wistful. “He looks into fire to see his parents once more. And, one day, perhaps he will burn. Maybe we are fools to think that we can Drift and not get burned as well.”

“I don’t know what to say, or what to do,” I said.

“If I were Drifting with you, I think I would advise a second plan,” Capucine mused. “A back-up plan, you call it?”

I saw something lit up her face, some spark, some thought.

I instantly felt better, or rather, I felt better for an instant. Until I heard my name and turned to see who would had said it.

“Master Trinder!” had been the call.

A hopeful tone and a lively voice. That’s why I’d turned around.

But it was Sister Vellena, standing there at the edge of the field, smiling.

And she knew my full name.

“Capucine!” she called out. “Monsignor would like you to bring Isaac in for prayers and evening soup.”

“Yes, Sister,” Rufus shouted. “I just came out ahead of you to fetch them.”

She nodded.

“Capucine, she knows our names,” I said whispering, turning my head so the Sister couldn’t see me talking. “She can put it all together now.”

Capucine was taking short breaths, but she didn’t react or say anything for a moment. She began walking and I tried to go with her, when the Sister had a second commandment.

“Liam and I shall join you shortly,” Sister Vellena said. “I’d so like to share with him the progress of your kitchen garden. Would you mind?”

“It has not truly had a chance to grow yet,” Capucine said, looking down.

“But there is such promise,” the Sister responded.

Capucine gave this great thought and finally shook her head and walked away with Isaac.

“Are you enjoying your stay?” Sister Vellena said, strolling across the lawn with a measured step. “I’ve come to call it home. A long way from Vezelay in France. So we are both… removed. Finding a new place to grow.”

I scowled at her, as much because I couldn’t figure out anything to say.

“Your parents?” she asked. “Are they alive?”

I nodded.

“What does your father do?” she continued.

“He builds bridges and my mmo…” I stumbled, remembering to correct myself, “my mother is a performer.”

“My, my,” she said. “And… where you’re from… do you know the Holy Savior?” she asked. She was so nonchalant, I assumed it was a way to inquire if I was a Catholic or not. I remembered that they called them Papists at the moment.

“Protestant,” I said, avoiding the problem entirely.

“Ah!” she laughed but it faded quickly. “I was actually imagining, by the second millennium, that He might…”

She sighed. “But you don’t know Him,” she said, more pointedly and with such an emphasis, I thought she meant Jesus. But even if there had been a Second Coming, she should know better than to ask. Should I be faking the possibility?

“I really shouldn’t be telling you about that,” I said, hoping I sounded non-committal. “Or anything,” I added.

We had arrived at the end of the large garden bed, neatly laid out in furrows with stakes placed at regular intervals. The lime green sprouts of new growth were curling and stretching upwards, displaying great imagination in the way they made interesting shapes and patterns. Sister Vellena pointed out the names of different herbs.

“I helped her to plant the flowers at the far end as well,” she said. “Les fleurs Capucine. Her namesake. Pretty and delicate, as she is. Medicinal, just as she is helpful. I’m very fond of her and concerned for her future. You may be surprised to know that I was expecting something to happen. I was worried that she might die.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, suddenly angered.

“I have no more Drifts listed for her,” the Sister said coolly. “Not for her. Not for anyone from this Fire Ring, until 1888. Do you know why that is?”

I shrugged. “Maybe it just got lost,” I said.

“Or maybe it’s something that you’ve done, by coming,” she said. She was looking at me quizzically.

“I’m sure I don’t have answers for you,” I said.

“It is the questions I find most fascinating,” she continued. “When I was younger than you, I was captivated by the questions. Every solar noon… at Solstice, in June, there are seven pools of light that line up perfectly down the processional aisle in the cathedral of Vezelay. I expressed such interest that the Sisters began to reward me with instruction. I realized that there was so much more to know about the everlasting. People come and go, but there is always that everlasting mystery. How we are linked from one generation to the next.

“And you,” she said, holding her robe to permit her to bend down, looking at me eye to eye, “There are things that I could tell you. And it would be so nice to have a friend in the future.”

My stomach went cold and I got prickles all over my skin. Her eyes dropped to the center of my chest and I knew she was looking for where my crystal should be. It had never occurred to me until now just how dangerous this woman’s knowledge of us could be.

“I’ll… have to give this some thought,” I said, the sound of my voice feeling distant and robotic, while my thoughts were racing. I had to get back to the others.

“The smell of the herbs is making me hungry,” I said. “Do you think we could go eat?”

“Of course,” she said smiling. She touched my head and tousled my hair as she stood. I know that I flinched. My Mom did the same thing, and I didn’t want this woman touching me like that. I knew I couldn’t let it show and I forced a smile.

“Thank you for showing me Capucine’s garden,” I said. “And for the conversation. It is all very thought provoking.”

“There are always more questions, yes?” she said.

Finally, something we agreed on.