Page 16 of Christmas Past
Seth nodded. His chest was tight; he might have understood deep down that he was doing the right thing, but this didn’t make it hurt any less for all that. “I know.”
He got up from the sofa and went over to the small writing desk on the other side of the room, then pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen. If he was going to disappear again, the least he could do was leave behind some sort of explanation. Not the whole truth — he wasn’t sure whether anyone would even believe him, since no one in the McAllister family had Devynn’s time-traveling gift — but something that might give his parents a measure of peace.
Mom and Dad, he began, then stopped. What could he possibly say that would make his sudden departure seem reasonable?
We wanted to spend one last Christmas with you, but now Devynn and I have to leave again. Please don’t try to look for us — we’ve gone someplace where you can’t follow, somewhere we need to be.
I know this will hurt you, and I’m sorry for that. But please know we’re not in any danger, and we’re not running from anything here in Jerome. This is just something we have to do.
I love you both more than I can say. Take care of each other.
Your son, Seth
The note was terribly inadequate, he knew. Nothing he could write would truly explain or justify what they had to do. They couldn’t tell the truth and say they were returning to the future, however. Doing so would only make his parents ask too many questions, might make Charles press them for information about his future with Abigail, information Seth knew they could never divulge.
But it was better than nothing…better than disappearing without a single word, the way he had last time.
The way he almost had this time as well.
Maybe coming back here had been a blessing in disguise…well, except for the way these jumps in time were taking such a horrible toll on the woman he loved.
He folded the letter carefully and placed it in an envelope, writing his parents’ names on the front. Then he set it down on the kitchen table, where he knew it would be easily found when they came looking for him.
When he returned to the living room, Devynn was standing by the window, staring out at the familiar view of Jerome’s steep, snowy streets and terraced buildings.
“Having second thoughts?” she asked quietly, clear, blue-gray eyes still fixed on the world outside.
Seth joined her at the window and followed her gaze. In the distance, he saw smoke rising from the chimneys of a dozen different houses, could imagine the families gathered inside for their own Christmas celebrations. His parents were probably preparing for that evening’s dinner at the prima’s house, Molly fussing over which dress to wear while Henry polished his shoes.
“Yes,” he replied, even though he knew that was a horribly simple word to communicate the feelings that roiled inside him. “Are you?”
“I suppose so.” Devynn turned to look at him, and he could see the exhaustion still etched on her lovely features. There was something else, though…resolve, maybe, or just acceptance of what had to be done. “But we can’t stay, Seth. You know that.”
He did know it. They’d already been here too long, had already risked too much. Every day they remained in 1926 was another day they might inadvertently change something, might set in motion events that would ripple forward through time and alter the future they belonged to. Just being here for a family Christmas he was never supposed to experience was bad enough.
And yet….
“I know,” he said finally. “I just wish….”
He let the words trail off. Wishing to be in two places…two times…was impossible, and they both knew it.
“I know,” she said softly. “I wish things could be different, too.”
They stood together in silence, watching the afternoon light slant across the living room, so different from how the space looked in the future and yet so familiar at the same time. Very soon, this would all be a memory — the bungalow in its current incarnation, Jerome of the 1920s, his parents, everything that had defined his life for the first twenty-four years of his existence.
The thought was almost unbearable.
But as he looked at Devynn, saw the way she struggled to stay upright despite her exhaustion, Seth knew they were out of choices. They had to leave, and they had to leave now, before she was too weak to make the journey.
“How much time do you need to recover?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” She leaned against the window frame and closed her eyes. “Twenty minutes? Maybe a half hour?”
“Then we’ll wait thirty minutes,” Seth said. “And then we’ll go home.”
Home. It still felt strange to think of the twenty-first century that way, but Devynn was right — that was where they belonged. Where their life together was waiting for them.
Even if leaving this place behind felt like tearing out a piece of his heart.
