Chapter Three: Timeless by Rosaline Saul
Jayden takes her lifeless body gently into his arms. He folds his arms tenderly around her shoulders and under her knees, and as he cradles her against his chest, he jumps off from the wagon. He walks around toward Kieran and then together they walk to the door.
Kieran knocks softly and the chatter from inside the cottage
stops abruptly.
They hear footsteps drag across the stone floor and then the
wooden door creaks open.
“Who
goes there?” A deep voice asks.
Kieran steps back when he recognizes the gruff voice of Mr.
O’Halloran. He does not know what to expect from him when he sees his
daughter’s lifeless body in the arms of Jayden.
Jayden replies brusquely, “It is I, Jayden. Son of
Fitzgerald.”
“Jayden
my boy, step inside. If you are looking for Heather, she left with Kieran to
watch the sunset.” Then he sees her, and worriedly he reaches for her. “What
happened? Mary come here quickly,” he calls across his shoulder with urgency.
There is a commotion deeper within the cottage and then his
wife comes rushing toward the door. Clara, her younger sister, follows closely
behind her mother.
Immediately when her eyes settle on her daughter, she starts
moaning, “What happened? What happened?”
Mr. O’Halloran turns abruptly and walks back into the
cottage, while Jayden follows him, dragging Mrs. O’Halloran and Clara with him.
They move around him and cling to him in panic and fear, moaning incessantly,
“What happened? What happened?”
Mr. O’Halloran swoops the empty wooden bowls and cutlery off
the table with one swoop of his large hand and says softly, “Put her here.”
Carefully Jayden lays her body down onto the long
rectangular wooden table. Her light brown hair fans out around her face. He
looks down at her sadly, as he gently folds her arms across her chest. He feels
tears burn behind his eyelids as he pinches them tightly closed and he leans
down toward her. He kisses her softly on her forehead.
When Jayden straightens up again, he notices a wailing Mrs.
O’Halloran hanging onto Kieran.
Mr. O’Halloran is frowning deeply, and he asks harshly,
“What happened here?”
“I
am not sure, Sir.”
“What
do you mean, you are not sure. My daughter went out with Kieran this afternoon
and YOU bring her back dead.”
“I
happened to be up at the Outlook when they arrived there this afternoon. She
was fine when we left and then on the wagon, she merely fainted. I was
concerned and when I looked, she had stopped breathing. We tried to get here as
fast as we could.”
Mr. O’Halloran turns to Kieran. “Is this what happened,
young lad?”
“Yes,
Sir.” Kieran lowers his gaze. Mrs. O’Halloran stumbles away from him and into
her husband’s arms.
Mr. O’Halloran says gruffly, “Leave now. Let this family
mourn in peace.”
Kieran moves toward the table. He lifts her limp hand to his
lips, and he mumbles softly, tasting the salty taste of his tears on his lips,
“I love you. I am so sorry this happens every time you choose me, but just like
Jayden, I cannot stop. I also have to let it happen repeatedly until we can
somehow break this curse.”
Mr. O’Halloran’s voice echoes loudly behind him. “I said
leave now, lad.”
Kieran turns away from her and then nodding his head at Mr.
O’Halloran, he walks toward the door and out to the wagon.
Jayden is already waiting for him, standing next to the
wagon and scuffing his leather shoe across the moist, muddy ground. He says
casually, “We should leave the wagon here.”
Kieran pushes his hands deep into his pockets. His shoulders
slump forward slightly as he walks away from the cottage.
Jayden smiles despondently, falling into step next to him.
“Lighten up, brother. This is not the end of it.”
Kieran replies miserably, “Here we go again.”
When I walk into my house, I hear the clatter and clanging
of dishes in the kitchen. I come to a dead stop. Immediate apprehension grips
my heart because usually there is nobody at home when I get home from school.
My mom calls, “Is that you, Heather?”
I release the breath I am holding, and I walk toward the
kitchen. I pass the dining room, and I notice the centrepiece on the
table—fresh flowers. I frown briefly and hesitate in the doorway, curious to
know what is going on. The table is set for three people. Our most expensive
dinner service sits there waiting to be used. Knives and forks are neatly
placed on each side of the pretty plates, and crystal wine glasses are placed
slightly in front of the knives.
I turn around and walk to the kitchen. As I walk into the
room, I start to ask, “What is going.” My confused brain cuts off the words
when I see my mom bending over into the oven. She pulls out an oven dish, and I
smell the wonderful, delectable aroma of Lasagne. This is my favourite dish,
which is only prepared for very, very special occasions. I quickly search my
memory files and soon realize today there is absolutely no reason for
celebration.
My mom puts the dish onto the kitchen counter and then she
turns around to me.
“Hi. How was school?” This is my mom’s standard greeting and sometimes I think she does not really care what the answer is, so I usually just say, “Fine. How was your day?” I never really expect an answer to my question.
She surprises me by saying, “I had a great day. They are upgrading our network at work, so now it won’t take me half the day to do the simplest of tasks.” She smiles, but I notice the smile does not reach her eyes.
