he returns, I’m on my feet, face washed, hair brushed, scone basket over my arm.
“All ready to cross over?” he says as he shakes new-fallen snow from his hair.
“I am.” I kiss his cheek. “Thank you for coming to meet me. And for the flight and car.”
“Flight and car? Whatever are you talking about?”
“The upgrades?”
His eyes dance. “Must have been pixies. I can scarcely operate my mobile phone. I’d hardly know how to get you . . . what did you call it? An upgrade?”
I shake my head. He’s right about the phone—so much tech to learn, so little time to learn it when you’re taking care of two houses and two stables.
Luckily, William isn’t afraid to ask for help, and our neighbors Freya and Del are more than happy to provide it. Well, Freya is, at least. Del just quietly comes over and cleans out the stable or mows the lawn, and then, if thanked, he’ll grumble that someone needed to do it.
“We’d best bring a blanket or two,” William says, as he puts out the fire. “I’ll need to light the fireplaces once we cross. Perhaps we should bring a torch as well? I considered leaving a candle burning, but that bloody kitten of yours would have set the house aflame.” He frowns. “I hope she didn’t get into our supper. I ought not to have left it out.”
So I’m leaving this brightly lit, warm house for a cold, dark one with a potentially kitten-nibbled dinner?
I plaster on a smile. “It’ll be fine. I’m just glad to be home.”
He leads me upstairs, flipping off lights as we go. We head to my old bedroom—the one I’d used when I’d visited my aunt. It’s an office now. We’d debated turning it into a nursery, but we’d rather not need to worry about our baby crawling through time during naps. This is where the stitch is located. A link between my old room and William’s.
Why is there a time stitch here? How is there one? What even is it? There are questions we can’t answer and don’t care to.
For years, I’d been the only human who could cross. Then came Pandora, William’s kitty, and later Enigma. After I put the last of the Thorne Manor ghosts to rest, William was able to cross as well.
Could others cross? It isn’t a question we’re ready to answer. The few people who know our secret have decided that, as much as they would love to pass through time, they don’t dare risk being trapped on the wrong side.
We only hope that our child will be able to cross over. If not . . . well, if not, then we’ll have decisions to make, but we trust that if we can—and our cats can—then our child will be able to as well.
We head for the stitch spot without preamble. William takes my hand, and we cross into our other office, which—contrary to his warning—is neither cold nor dark. It’s blazing with light and warmth, the fireplace burning bright.
I turn and smack his arm.
He rubs his arm. “Is that how they use mistletoe in your world? Terribly uncivilized.”
I crane my neck up to see a green and red sphere hanging over the stitch. It’s a kissing ball—an apple covered in foliage and herbs, giving off the most delectable smell. There’s mistletoe, of course, with its bright red berries, but also rosemary and lavender, symbolizing loyalty and devotion.
I smile as I gaze up at the ball. Then I reach for William, but he’s already bending down to pick up a bright red box.
“Your first gift,” he says.
Before I can protest that it’s too early, something inside the box scratches. Then yowls piteously. I sputter a laugh and pull off the perforated lid to see a half-grown calico cat nestled in a bed of blankets with a toy and treats. Enigma glares at me with baleful green eyes.
“Hey,” I say. “I’m not the one who put you in there.”
Enigma continues to glare until I pick her up. Then she settles in on my chest and accepts my petting, even deigns to purr a little.
“I spent all afternoon trying to catch her.” He rolls up his sweater sleeves, revealing a criss-cross of scratches down both arms. “Ungrateful little beast. I told her you were coming home, but did she listen? No. Just wanted to chase mice through the barn.”
I set Enigma on my desk chair. Then I put my arms around William’s neck, leaning back for a kiss.