Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

The Timekeeper smiled and handed a petite, gray-haired woman her receipt and newly fixed timepiece enclosed in a small box. The elegant white bow atop the box was a tad surprising for Marcus, but not much. The Timekeeper always took immense pride in his work and so such displays were almost fitting. On looking fleetingly over the woman’s shoulder and meeting Marcus’s eyes, the Timekeeper’s uncharacteristic smile withered to the pits of glumness Marcus had grown accustomed to.

Marcus’s stomach soured. It was obvious he was the last person the Timekeeper wanted to see, and the feeling was mutual. But after walking countless streets, drenched and cold, Marcus was still at a loss. East, West, North, and South, there was nowhere to go. He had thought to take Abigail to his home, at least until he could sort out the mess he’d brought on his own head, but Margaret would never allow it. She would sooner resign from her existence and stand before the Timekeeper, affirming she was done with life, before seeing Marcus cater his attentions on another woman. Whatever his reasons for sparing Abigail would mean little to Margaret. All she would see was another reason why Marcus refused to love her. All that would haunt her thoughts would be the countless times he’d shown such compassion to another woman for the means of a meaningless tumble. She would remember everything she lost because of him, never understanding that Abigail was different. No, he couldn’t have taken her home. To take Abigail from one quarreling couple to another was out of the question.

The older woman rambled on endlessly about the purpose of her gift, words that died to the violent pangs of Marcus’s heartbeats. Finally, the doorbells jingled and she was gone. The Timekeeper plucked up small scraps of white lace and returned the scissors back to the cup beside the cash register. He looked at the mechanical contraption and paused, shaking his head with a breathless chuckle.

Marcus took the silent cue and placed the suitcase beside Abigail who sat on a worn chair by the window. Her eyes were captured by the blackened grout and she twisted her fingers on her lap. Marcus bent beside her and looked up to her downturned face. Her confidence was fading. The green in her eyes glimmered with uncertainty and fear that materialized into tears.

She inched closer. “Is he, you know, Death?”

Marcus shook his head, gladdened when her shoulders relaxed. “He’s a friend of mine that’s helped me out before. You don’t have to be scared. Sit here and I’ll only be a minute,” he whispered. Marcus forced a smile to his lips. It never worked with Margaret, but there with Abigail, his mouth curved into a genuine smile. “Everything is going to be okay.”

At this, Abigail’s eyes flicked to his. “Okay? I’m cold, wet, and in a watch repair shop with the man who’s supposed to take my life. I can’t go back home, I can’t die, and everything is going to be okay?” Her frame bounced once with a sad chuckle. She turned her head down again and droplets of water streamed down her cheek. Marcus trailed one with his eyes in all its torture, and his smile withered. He forced himself to straighten up and reached the checkout counter on one breath.

The Timekeeper opened the register and slid a receipt beneath the cash tray. “Please tell me that we made a mistake and that Abigail Archer’s name was indeed on the list,” he said, never bothering to look at Marcus. “Tell me that it was an oversight on both of our parts. Tell me that it is not Abigail Archer I see there, sitting in my waiting area, alive.”

Marcus didn’t say a word.

The Timekeeper shut the register with a slight click. “Right.” Studiously gazing at Marcus and then at Abigail as if the entire situation were fascinating, he shook his head. “You know I need her soul, Marcus., I have no use for the body.”

“I’m not here to deliver her soul.” Marcus spoke for the Timekeeper’s ears only. “I’m here because…” He trailed off, the words trapped in his throat.

But words weren’t needed. One look at Marcus and the Timekeeper grew pale. He opened his mouth to say something, but shook his head dismissively and turned, walking down the dark hallway. Hanging on the Timekeeper’s unsaid words, Marcus motioned for Abigail to wait and followed the man into the back room.

The Timekeeper reached the center of the work room and spun. His hands dropped to his sides with a loud pat. “Why are you here? From my understanding, and by seeing that young lady sitting out there, I dare say I’ve done enough for you.”

“Timekeeper, I just need—”

“What you need is of little importance to me. I have done my part. I have given you a chance to gather what you need.”

“And I’ve gathered it!” Marcus snapped, his octave much higher and harsher than he’d wanted. He cupped his mouth and closed his eyes for an extended moment, realizing his inadvertent confession. He turned in place, needing a moment, and then another.

With a sharp exhale, he dropped his hands and his tone, and repeated his words while more cognizant of what they truly meant. He confessed slowly, truthfully, fearfully, “I’ve gathered what I need.”

“Then why are you here?” The Timekeeper neared Marcus, the fire in his eyes clashing with the coldness of his words. “You have your list, and obviously you have Abigail Archer. Her name was not on today’s list, so what else is there? You—” The Timekeeper cut himself off and quieted for an uncomfortable moment. He took a step back. “You should not be here! You never should have brought her here.”

Noting the warning glance the Timekeeper cast over his shoulder, Marcus half turned to see another slightly older gentleman retrieving his list from the stackable filer. Without so much as a nod, the man took his list and walked away. No emotion, no remorse. Marcus paused. Had he behaved the same way, so cold and inhumane?

The bells tinkled once more and the man was gone. The Timekeeper fell back onto his stool, his hands on the workbench. “With everything we’ve done, you bring her here of all places, at this hour? In the dead of morning, knowing how many more collectors there are during the day? Our arrangement was supposed to have been simple, but your bringing her here complicates things. This was a stupid thing to do, Marcus. Careless!”

“Of course I never meant to complicate things, but everything with Abigail, from the very first day, has been complicated. From being around her, to talking to her, to caring for her…” He trailed off, unable to think straight. “I had nowhere else to go.”

“Nowhere else? Anywhere is better than here. He can appear at any moment. I never know when, sometimes not for years, but you have brought so much attention to this station that I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s not already watching us. You think I don’t know about your little antics from earlier? Nearly taking an unlisted soul?”

Marcus went cold.

“Want to know how I know?” The Timekeeper asked as if having read Marcus’s mind. He retrieved the ledger from the bookshelf. The tools on his shelf rattled as he slammed the book down on the flat surface. He flipped through the pages attached then ripped out a single page and slid it across the table. From where Marcus stood, he could see the proof of his folly. At the bottom of the list of names, of his list of names, was a faint smudge, the beginnings of what was to be Randy’s name beside a numberless row.

“These things do not go unnoticed! Do you know the repercussion that could fall on both of our heads? The moment He comes, or sends anyone to investigate, I’m done. You’re getting sloppy and I can’t be involved anymore. When I told you about loneliness destroying a collector, it was to prevent this! It was so that you could see the signs and keep it from happening. Remember who you’re doing this for, Marcus. This wasn’t ever about you, but Margaret!”

The Timekeeper was shaking now and took a moment. He looked down the hall, and Marcus trailed his gaze to Abigail. She traced the outline of the buttons of Marcus’s coat, oblivious to the world around her.

The Timekeeper shook his head. “Goodness, have you looked at her? Have you really looked at her? It doesn’t matter how much she may look like Margaret, it isn’t her. You can protect her all you want, but Abigail can’t fix what you did. She can’t change who you are and what you do, and it won’t change the fact that she is due to die!” He pounded his fist on the workbench, the tinkling sound of his work tools filling the air. “I warned you. I told you attachment was worse than loneliness, and these emotions, they will do you in. They will do us all in. What more is there that you—”

The Timekeeper broke off and again nodded over Marcus’s shoulder at another man, about Marcus’s age, retrieving his list. The bells to the store jingled again, and the Timekeeper let out a long breath. Defeated, he shrugged. “Why are you here, Marcus? What exactly is it that you want now?”

The strain in the Timekeeper’s voice frustrated Marcus all the more. Not at the Timekeeper, but at himself. The answer was a simple phrase, but one he’d never uttered before. Many times finding himself in need, he’d managed or suffered due to pride holding the phrase prisoner. But with selflessness, pride lacked ground, and Marcus said the words. Free of pride and empty handed, he looked down the hall at Abigail with her battered suitcase, and faced the truth. “I need your help.”

And on the heels of that plea, the rest of the words tumbled from his mouth. “Yes, I was rash, stupid, idiotic, and careless and I don’t know what it is that I want. I’ve been drifting through this life, gray streets, gray avenues, name after name, and soul after soul—faceless, with as little as feeling the wind on my skin keeping me sane. But then—” Marcus paused, his chest clenching. “But then she happened. A miserable girl with a miserable song happened to me, and I don’t know why. I don’t know why she appeared on my list. I don’t know why she waited for me. I have looked at her. I’ve dissected every inch of her face. I’ve replayed the sound of her voice in my head so many times that I’m convinced she’s my conscience walking outside of my body.” He chuckled sadly. “At first I didn’t take her because of her appearance, yes. It haunted me to look at her when all I saw was Margaret. But now, after looking at her, after really seeing her, I’m not sure that’s my only reason anymore. From the moment I first saw her, above all, I wanted to protect her. That’s why I left her. I was protecting her from me.

“Timekeeper, I’ve always known exactly what I was supposed to do. Regardless of whether I did it or not, I knew what was right. Now, I simply don’t know. You ask me what it is that I want, and the answer is that I don’t know.” He stared at the Timekeeper and then approached the table. Gripping the edge of the workbench, he hung his head. A manic laugh made his shoulders ripple. He was on the brink of lunacy, he was certain of it.

Marcus embraced this madness, saying, “I have her. I found her, or she found me, but what matters is that she’s here, and I’m close. Close to what, I don’t know.” He laughed. “Hell, I may not even notice it when it comes. It may very well pass me by like the past 100 years of my pathetic existence. Black Death may come and take me before I’ve even figured it all out. But it’s close, closer than it has ever been. Whatever it is that’s consuming me this very minute, that’s refusing to let me go, it’s evaded Margaret and I. But Abigail has brought it into my life with a vengeance. Not someone like her, just her.

“I may not know what it is I want, but I know what I need. If today is all I have then so be it, but for the time, I need your help. If you remember with any part of you, with any fragment of memory, how I feel right now, please help me. I don’t remember it ever feeling this way. It’s been so bloody long, I’ve forgotten the sensations, the protocol, and I’m lost. For years it’s been happening all around me, and I was certain I’d surrendered it in becoming a collector. But now that it’s happening to me, I don’t know what to do.”

The Timekeeper leaned forward onto his elbows, the creases in his brow deepening. “And what exactly is it that’s happening, Marcus?”

Marcus met the Timekeeper’s stare, his answer simple: “Life.”

The Timekeeper studied him in silence for a long time. Marcus kept quiet. The surrounding clocks marked every minute, and he could hardly breathe.

Finally, a moan cut the silence as the Timekeeper settled back in his chair. “And what is this help that you need?”

Marcus pushed away from the table, wanting to stifle the hope swelling within him. The Timekeeper had still not agreed to help.

“I need to find a place for her to stay. You know my situation. I would not be here if I had somewhere to take her, but I don’t. I can’t take her to my home or I’ll find myself standing here again before the day’s end. She can’t go back home, not to those people. I just need for you to tell me of a place where I can take her, where she’ll be safe…especially from those like me.” He tensed remembering the blond haired man.

“From those like you?” The Timekeeper echoed curiously.

Marcus nodded. “Just in case.”

“Just in case?”

“Just in case,” Marcus repeated, his tone warning that he would not discuss anymore. He didn’t dare ask about the strange blond-haired man. There was too much at stake to risk losing the Timekeeper’s help on grounds of suspicion or fear.

The Timekeeper sat forward and then back. He wiped the smooth surface of the desk and then clasped his hands on top. He sat like this for some time. In his gray eyes, Marcus saw the internal debate. Whatever it was that the Timekeeper debated kept Marcus grounded, breathless.

Regaining his normal, unperturbed demeanor, the Timekeeper reached around his neck with a touch of surrender and helplessness. Suddenly stopping, he lowered his hands back down.

“I’ve never doubted your honesty, Marcus. But before I help you, there is something I need to know and I beg of you, for Abigail’s sake and for yours, tell me the truth. Does she know who—what you are?”

Marcus nodded. “She knows.”

Another quiet moment.

“And she is here with you because she chose to be here, of her own volition?”

Abigail’s words played hauntingly in Marcus’s mind, ‘I am ready to go, wherever.’

With a certainty and pride that burned, Marcus nodded once more. “She is with me, knowing what I am, and it’s entirely her choice.”

The Timekeeper’s shoulders fell with a sigh. He resumed his prior action and removed a thin chain from around his neck. A single silver key dangled beside a small clock. Lowering it onto the workbench, he uttered a silent prayer and slid the tarnished key from the chain. He released the treasured cargo onto the table and sank back, rubbing the key with a pained nostalgia.

“This has not always been my station. There was a time where I wheeled what little store I had around on a cart. Can you imagine that?” He shook his head with a small laugh. “Walking this very street, I would always see the prior owner of this store busied with those needing what I imagined was watch repairs. There was always a steady flow of visitors in and out of the store, while if I had two customers in a week I was lucky. I was envious, wishing I had half of his customers. Maybe then I could have gotten a decent meal. I suppose there is some truth in the saying, ‘Be careful what you wish for.’

“Early one morning in passing the store, I noticed a young woman in tears at the door to this shop. She had the bluest eyes and rosiest cheeks I’d ever seen in my life,” he said wistfully. “Her father entrusted her with his watch before he passed. In a blunder, she dropped it and it broke. With limited funds, she couldn’t afford to have it repaired. Well, always having been a fool for tears, I offered to fix it at no cost. She refused and begged that I take what little she had. I replied that her company was payment enough.” A distant smile crept onto the Timekeeper’s lips, his eyes touched by memory.

“She came by the next day, and the day after that, and each day stayed a bit longer than the last. In all of our hours of conversation, sharing our most intimate of fears and hopes, I began to imagine a life with her by my side. It was easy being around her, her scent that of lavender and honeysuckle. I was lost to her. And she actually liked me—a traveling salesman who could barely afford a meal, let alone maintain a wife.”

The Timekeeper’s smile fell. “One morning I waited, but she never came. Days turned to weeks, and naturally I thought what at the time I considered the worst possibility. I imagined that she met another suitor, a better match that could care for her better than I ever could. How happy could she possibly be with a traveling salesman?

“By the time I heard of her illness, the fever had left her but a shadow of who she once was, leaving her mind like that of a newborn child.” The Timekeeper shook his head. “In a fit of anger brought on by the fever and from frustration at not knowing who I was or why I was at her bedside, she threw at me what she held dearest: her father’s clock.

“I felt responsible. The least I could do was fix it. Had I not upset her, she never would have thrown it. But try as I might, my hands wouldn’t stop trembling and the tears constantly clouded my eyes.” His hands hovered over the table as if able to see the broken clock there. “I couldn’t fix it.”

He lowered his hands onto the table, defeated. “So I brought it to this very store. Like you, Marcus, I didn’t know where else to go,” he said with a knowing smile. “The owner took one look at the watch and said it was beyond repair. I begged him to fix it, telling him that it was for the woman I would do anything for. Anything.”

Marcus hardly heard the last word as the Timekeeper’s voice faded to a broken whisper. The Timekeeper quieted and Marcus heard the bell once again, but found it difficult to withdraw his gaze from the man before him.

The bell jingled again, and the Timekeeper lifted his gaze. “The owner made an offer that a sane mind would have refused. But what sanity is there in love? He told me that although he could not fix the clock, he could fix her—Elise. He offered me the position of Timekeeper in exchange for Elise’s life. The pain lured me to accept his offer and to take over his role as the Timekeeper. With the shake of a hand, my deal was made.

“As promised, Elise recovered. Some said it was a miracle, others said it was due to advancement in what was then considered modern sciences. I knew the truth, and all I could do was pray that God forgave me for what I had done. Once Elise fully recovered, she came by to see me, having heard of my success. Unsurprisingly, she wondered how things had changed so much in such little time. Trusting she would understand that I did it all for her, I told her the truth.”

The Timekeeper said nothing more for a long time while, staring down at the key beside the broken clock. His voice then grew dim and flat. “The look in her eyes when she heard me say what I had done and what I had become…” He didn’t say anymore. He didn’t have to say anymore.

Currents of compassion rippled through Marcus, and he lowered his eyes.

The Timekeeper slid the key across the table. “Use the entrance on the side of the building. There is a room upstairs. It hasn’t been used for many, many years as I stopped needing sleep long ago. There is a bed and there should be some dry shirts that she’s welcome to. It isn’t much, but it’s all I have.”

“Timekeeper, I can’t accept this. Having us so close might place you in a more compromising position than I’ve already put you in. Tell me of another place.”

“There is nowhere else. This is the only place where you’ll be safe from any collectors. They can’t will themselves unseen anywhere near this station. The room upstairs is protected since it falls within the station boundaries. She will be safe—well, as safe as can be from any collectors. All except for you, of course.” The Timekeeper smiled frailly.

Marcus forced one in return, appreciating his attempt. He rubbed his damp fingers together and reached out. Taking hold of the tarnished key, he squeezed the cool metal tightly in his hand.

The Timekeeper looped the chain back around his neck, and in tucking away the broken clock, he retrieved another broken watch due for repair.

Marcus forced himself from the trance of the Timekeeper’s tale and turned around to leave the man to his memories. He stopped and turned back. “I’m sorry about the way it all turned out with Elise.”

“It is not for you to feel sorry, that wasn’t my intention in telling you.” The Timekeeper set down his tools. “It was for you to know that perhaps you are going mad in all you’re doing for Miss Archer. But if she is with you still, knowing of what you really are, then I believe she is worth a measure of madness, don’t you think?”

The Timekeeper looked down the hall at Abigail. Nodding to himself, he retrieved his tools and went back to the waiting patient.

Marcus turned, his eyes fixing instantly on a drenched Abigail fiddling with the buttons of his coat. “Yes,” he said a little over a whisper. “I suppose she is.”

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Thank you so much for reading! Please vote and comment if you enjoyed the chapter. This has always been one of my favorite ones for some reason. :)