Sylvie pushed the backdoor of Dad’s pawnshop open. Once inside, she shut the door and leaned against it to catch her breath. She’d run the entire way from her house, through the woods, to the shop. She wiped the sweat from her forehead as she gazed at the mess of Dad’s backroom and office, trying to decide where to search first.
Sylvie walked to the boxes left open and scattered from her and Sebastian’s prior searches. Her heart ached for her brother and Jodi as she remembered them all there, together, searching, reading the journal, coming up with plans. Sylvie kicked one box with her foot, angry that none of the plans had worked.
If she couldn’t fix things with Sebastian and Jodi helping, what made her think she could fix things now? What did she expect to find in the missing pages anyway—if she even found them? There was no guarantee the pages held anything useful or that she’d understand them. Sebastian was the one who was good at figuring things out. Not only that, but the killer could find her at any moment, at any time. There was nowhere, no when to hide. Sylvie shuddered at the thought.
Focus, Sylvie. She had to stay calm. She couldn’t afford to take anymore needless jumps.
Outside, the town train rushed past on the tracks behind the shop. It whistled as the building shook from its force. Sylvie’s heart thumped faster from the rattle of things around her. She was on edge. Every unexpected sound or movement set her off, spinning fears that the killer was appearing.
Sylvie shut her eyes as she whispered the St. Michael’s prayer under her breath. Nonna always told her to say it before bed so she wouldn’t have nightmares. Sylvie wasn’t sure if it would work to protect her, but figured it was worth a shot. She needed all the help she could get.
With the train gone, the shop was still again. Sylvie settled her gaze on the safe, deciding to search there first. They’d found her crystal watch battery there, after all. Maybe there was something more, something they’d missed from all the excitement of finding the battery.
Remembering the combination was her, June’s, and Sebastian’s birthdays, she turned the knob. Jodi’s voice played in her head as she turned.
“It gets sticky when it gets close to the numbers,” Jodi had said.
Sylvie counted each turn until she’d hit all their birthdays, then turned the safe’s handle. It opened without a glitch.
Sylvie eyed the inside of the safe. She saw the stacks of gold bars and cash Dad kept. She looked behind it, where they’d found the crystal watch battery, hoping to find something new.
There was nothing there. The only other items Sylvie could see were three manila folders tucked to the side.
She pulled them out, then sat down on the floor in front of the safe to look through them. Folders are a good place for missing pages, she thought.
The first one she opened was full of receipts, tagged with notes Dad scribbled for his accountant. The second had magazine clippings and sketches of a house plan. Sylvie shifted through the clippings that were also covered with notes from Dad. She hadn’t realized he’d been planning on building their family a new house. How could he? Sylvie knew they didn’t have the money.
Sylvie wondered now, as she searched through the sketches and clippings, if there had been any money left after paying off the funeral and the other bills Nonna had owed. She’d heard her parents talked about the estate at the kitchen table many times, but had never paid attention. Just the mere mention of the words mortgage and estate had sent her off into the next room to watch MTV.
Sylvie shut the second folder and grabbed the third. There was no use in thinking about a new house when there wasn’t a family to live in it.
The third folder felt sticky. Drops of old coffee were splashed on its front cover. Inside were family photos. Some were of Dad and Mom when they were dating. Mom smiled in one photo, dressed in her bell bottoms and bell-sleeved puffy blouse. She wore her long hair parted down the middle; a dandelion tucked behind her ear. The next photo was of Dad. He had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth as he cast a fishing line into the lake. In another, her parents sat nestled together, arms around one another as they kissed.
Sylvie continued to flip through the pictures. She found several of the family over the years, including those of herself, June, and Sebastian. Some she’d never seen or barely remembered.
Sylvie paused as she came to one photo in particular. In it, Papa held an infant June as he grinned ear to ear. Sylvie studied his face for clues that he could travel through time, but there was nothing in the lines of his face or in the depth of his eyes that showed he had one of the greatest powers ever known to a man.
Sylvie set the photo of Papa back down as she flipped through the remaining pictures. It was more of the same random family photos of their lives in Lowridge.
Until the last one. That one was peculiar.
It was a single photo of Papa’s grandfather clock, the one Sylvie loved to stare at and dream of the many lives it had lived, keeping time to her family’s many lives over the decades.
Why would someone take a picture of a clock? The photo was out of place among the family pictures.
Sylvie turned it around to see if there was anything written on the back.
There was nothing.
Frustrated, Sylvie put the picture back in the folder. She gathered the other two folders, then stood up to put them back inside. She’d have to resort to searching through boxes because there was nothing else in the safe.
Sylvie stood back up and shoved the folders back into the nook where she’d found them. Feeling frustrated, she stepped back and gazed at the inside of the safe one last time before grabbing the door to shut it closed.
Something caught her eye.
Sylvie paused, rubbed her eyes, unsure she believed what she was seeing.
There, on top of the bars of gold, was a VHS tape. Sylvie was certain it hadn’t been there before. How could she have missed that?
Behind her, the sound of white noise filled the room. Sylvie spun around, noticing the tiny television in the corner of Dad’s office was on.
What was this?
Sylvie’s heart thumped as she grabbed the VHS tape and headed to the television with the VCR hooked up beneath it. A warm, loved feeling swept over her as she walked toward it. She felt her hair move, as if someone had brushed their fingers through it.
“Dad?” Sylvie said out loud. She could feel Dad there. She knew his presence.
The VCR clicked on now, the tape inside it ejecting by itself.
Sylvie paused, then pulled it out. It was a copy of Dad’s favorite movie, It’s a Wonderful Life.
Sylvie put the tape she’d found inside the safe into the VCR and pressed PLAY.
A scrambled image appeared. There was a beep, then a fuzzy screen, followed by more loud white noise.
Sylvie leaned closer to hit FAST FORWARD, but stopped when a clear image appeared on the screen.
It was Dad.
“Sylvie.” Dad spoke with urgency as he stared into the camera. He looked disheveled, dark circles under his eyes. He ran his fingers through his hair, parted on the side.
Sylvie swore her heart stopped as she stared. Faced with his image, she realized exactly how much she missed him.
“If you are watching this, it means that somewhere, some when in time, I got this to you. I’m sure you have lots of questions. I know I did.” He paused. “Unfortunately, if you are watching this, I’m afraid it also means you are running out of time. If you’ve found this tape, then I suspect things didn’t go as I’d hoped.”
Sylvie held her breath, waiting for him to continue.
“So, let’s get right to it,” he said. “I’ve got a lot to say and, ironically, not much time to say it.”
Dad took a breath. Then the words spewed out. Dad told Sylvie a story, just like he’d always told her as a little girl. He spoke like he was reading her Alice in Wonderland once more, except this time, the story was true.
This was a marvelous, crazy story of family secrets, time travel, and crime. A story she never could have imagined, a history she could not fathom was her own. One of mystery and sacrifice. A story of love.
“When I was a kid,” he began, “my dad would disappear sometimes—not literally in front of me, but he’d be gone. I’d wake up, and he’d be gone. Nonna was so strong. She’d never flinched. She’d just kept taking care of me until, soon enough, Papa was back. Nonna always welcomed him with loving arms. I’d never understood it. It’d made me angry. I’d missed my father, and he’d abandoned us frequently. He’d never said where he’d gone. He’d just come back, and we’d live life as normal.”
He paused, then continued. “I didn’t know the truth until Nonna died. Losing Nonna put me in a dark place inside. I did the best I could to stay normal for you, June, Sebastian, and your mother, but I was not myself. Losing Papa had been hard, but I was still angry at him. Losing Nonna… that was something else.”
He wiped his eyes as tears welled up in them. “I started having these strange things happen to me. If you are watching this, I know you understand because I suspect you’ve had them too. If you haven’t found Papa’s journal yet or find it confusing—which I had—let me spell it out for you.”
He took a deep breath. “Time travel is an inherited ability that goes way back in our family. It’s often, but not always, activated in times of great stress, like a death or an accident. For me, it was losing Nonna. I’d thought I was going crazy until I found Papa’s journal in Nonna’s things. I found it while cleaning out the estate. Remember that night I stayed back, and you guys went to get pizza? That’s when I found it. Like you, or at least I suspect you may have at the point in time you’re watching this, I learned all the rules. I learned pretty quickly there were causation effects. Remember that broken vase put back together? That was me. And many other times over the summer, slight things, like when your favorite mug went missing. The peculiar thing was, though, you always remembered the changes. Sebastian, too. Your mother and June never noticed. I found that fascinating. Papa’s notes taught me though, that those that have the capacity to time travel may remember minor details from other timelines, even before their time travel skill fully develops. They can still remember past timelines changed by other travelers.”
Sylvie remembered the vase. She shivered, realizing that was the first time she remembered things being different. She thought about Sebastian, too. He also always remembered. Did that mean he would time travel, too, someday? On his own?
“Papa had all of it down. He’d spent years studying and doing experiments. He’d met other travelers and learned more than I have time to share here. Yes, there are other journals. I know you’re wondering. One thing he discovered were special crystals in timepieces, like your watch.” Dad paused, a grin on his face. “Yes, I left the crystal battery for you. Like I said, I had a feeling you were going to develop the ability, and I had to prepare you just in case. So, I gave you the watch, but hid the battery. I know you’re thinking that I could have put it in an easier location to find, but I had to protect it. Why do you think I always said I could never forget your birthdays? The reason I said that so much, especially over last summer, was so you’d remember when it came time to break the code to my safe. I left you clues in my own way, just in case. My hope was you wouldn’t need it.” He ran his hands through his hair again.
Sylvie stared at the screen, not sure how she felt about what he was saying. She wished he’d get to the point. She needed to know where he was and how to stop this nightmare.
“Sylvie, I’ll just get to it,” he said, as if he could read her thoughts from a VHS tape recorded some when else in time. “Reading Papa’s journal, I found a page describing special keys. Like your watch, the keys help direct travel, except with more power. They allow you to go further back, further back than you could imagine, and further into the future than you could dream. With one of these keys, you can correct timelines where mistakes were made.”
Sylvie remembered Sebastian telling her about special keys or other crystals, or something. He’d never elaborated more on it because they’d been so busy learning the basics of her ability and trying to stop the killer.
“When I learned about the keys, I was hooked and needed to find one. I wanted to go back to see Papa. It was just I had so much to ask him! I also wanted to make peace with him. Once, I’d told him I didn’t love him and wanted to take it back. I finally understood he hadn’t left me all those years. That he was time jumping, living adventures I didn’t know about. I figured there had to be more, and I wanted to know. I had to see him. The only problem was there were pages missing from the journal that told where to find such a key. Don’t ask me where the pages are; I have no idea. I searched everywhere.”
Sylvie’s heart sank. So much for her plan to find answers in the missing pages.
“Then I remembered this old memory. Papa had always wound his grandfather clock in the living room. Remember that clock? How big and ridiculous it was in that tiny house? I went to the clock, determined to find it. Thankfully, I hadn’t moved it out of Nonna’s house yet. Problem was, someone else was there, too.”
He paused, his expression turning from warm to cold, as if he had seen a ghost. “Sylvie, that someone… He was not who I would have expected to see and not how I would have expected to see him. Let’s just say that I found him time jumping. I caught him in the act. He didn’t see me because I time jumped away. But I knew his secret. The bloody knife was all I’d needed to see. Then, there was…” He wiped his eyes once more as his voice trembled. “There were a whole series of things that happened, Sylvie, I tried to stop this killer. And he tried to stop me. I time jumped too many times, caused too many changes. And then… You see, Sylvie, there’s a timeline where he burned our house down with all of you in it but me. All of you were gone. All of you, except me. I had to stop it.” Dad wiped his tears.
Sylvie watched the screen, a thousand questions running through her brain. Who was the killer? A fire? She remembered the orphan boy. She remembered Sebastian’s dream. He hadn’t just dreamt about the fire in 1972; he’d remembered this other timeline. Did that mean the current timeline was not her origin timeline? Her head spun with so many questions. It felt blocked, stuck on PAUSE, as she tried to understand.
“Sylvie, I had to stop him, and the only way to do it was to break two or more-time travel rules. And maybe you know this, but if you break two or more time travel rules, you can set things right sometimes. You have to find the root cause, and you have to go to it to make it change, but you have to do it by breaking more than one rule. So, for me, I time jumped to the night of the fire where my past self was present. I also tricked the killer into coming with me. Then, my plan is, or rather, if you are watching this, my plan was to fix the root cause. I was going to take a big action destined to set it all straight.”
Dad continued. “Sylvie, if you are watching this, I’ve succeeded—but at a price. I suspect maybe it’s my disappearance that’s brought your gift on. At least, I hope that’s it. If I did succeed, and I’m not there to tell you this in person, that means the universe made me pay the price. Big changes caused by breaking many time travel rules at once is risky for the traveler but have the potential of being beneficial if it works. The only big issue is that it can cause you to be cast out of your origin timeline, lost forever, in the shadows of time.” He paused. “Of course, there is also the possibility that I failed and am still cast out of my timeline, and some other tragedy made you time jump, but I just can’t think about that. I can’t believe that would happen. I have to succeed.”
An ugly, horrible sob busted out of Sylvie, who now knew the truth. Dad had failed. June was dead, the killer was still here, and Dad was gone. Sylvie felt her cheeks grow hot and wet as she cried. This was why she hadn’t been able to talk to Dad, and why he hadn’t been able to hear her when she’d time jumped to him. He was cast out somewhere else. Somewhere in a broken universe, caught between time.
Dad kept talking. “This means, Sylvie, that I can’t get back to you. I can’t talk to you, though I think I can, or will, be able to see you sometimes. But I can never come back again.” Dad looked away from the screen.
“Sylvie, I had to do this. For you, June, and Sebastian. For your mother. I'd rather get lost in the universe of time than have my mistakes cut your lives short. I hope and pray I can save us all and stop the killer. But if you’re watching, it means I’m gone. I need you to know why.”
Sylvie sniffled as she wiped her tears.
Dad turned to look back at the camera, staring as if he were in front of her, looking her straight in the eye. “Do you remember Sylvie, when you asked me, what time is? Remember what I told you?”
“Time is but a collection of moments,” Sylvie said it out loud at the same time Dad did in the video. She choked on her own tears, not able to finish the sentence. You have to cherish them all.
“Please, tell June, Sebastian, and Mom that I love them. Remember that I love you. Keep collecting those moments, Sylvie. And please—”
The video stopped as the television shut off. A cold, shivering wind blew through the pawnshop despite the windows being shut. The papers on Dad’s desk scattered to the floor.
Sylvie froze, paralysis from grief and fear hitting her.
Dad hadn’t abandoned them; he’d saved them. He’d risked his own life so they could live. Sylvie’s heart swelled. Had his sacrifice caused June’s murder? There was no way to know. Timelines intersected like threads on a spool, both complicated and simple at the same time.
The wind stopped and an uneasy stillness settled over the shop.
Sylvie’s skin tingled as a searing heat emanated from her watch. The watch itself seemed to vibrate and buzz as its hands spun. The shadow swept over her, under her, and around her, slowly forming into a body as it grabbed onto her shoulders. The touch sent a shiver down her spine, yielding her to its power.
Before Sylvie knew it, she was spinning, lost in visions of the past—the killer’s past, not hers.
She opened her eyes and saw the shaggy red carpet from 1972.