Veronica had fumed after leaving her job for the last time. Apparently the school can't budget as many salaries as they had thought. She thinks she has earned the right to be bitter.
One thing is for sure. She isn't crawling back to Mother with nothing but disappointment. She had said she was going to make a life for herself, and she will. She'll be the damned best teacher they've ever seen. All she needs to do is get another job.
Byron Howard, the Negro man who cleans the school's floors after hours, suggests she head north into Maine. He claims there may be an open position in a town called Haven that he passed through just a year or so back.
Veronica isn't normally one to grasp at straws, but she doesn't know of any other place that will hire her. There are no more open jobs in town that will hire women except waitressing at the diner, and Veronica isn't that desperate.
Mother thinks she should stop trying to be so bull headed and independent and just marry a good man, but Veronica isn't that desperate. She knows she can make something of herself out in the world. After the argument she had with Mother last time, she doesn't even think that she'll write home, let alone visit. Those thoughts are enough to make her start packing her bags.
She keeps that in mind as she waits for the train to arrive to take her to Maine. She's never been out of Connecticut before. She'd be a liar if she said she wasn't scared, but Veronica knows how to hold her head high and walk into the unknown. She'll never make it if she doesn't take the first step.
.:.
Veronica wanders down the street after getting off the train. She should have put more thought into what her accommodations in Haven would be, but she doesn't regret her sudden trip. It's too late in the day to find the school, so she should try to find somewhere to sleep.
"Can I help you with your bag, ma'am?" The voice comes from behind her, startling Veronica out of her thoughts.
It's only one bag, not even a heavy one. The man who offered is old, around 60. Veronica wonders what his intentions are. "I can handle it. Thank you."
It's a polite dismissal if ever Veronica has heard one, but he persists in following her. "Are you new to town?"
"Was it the bag that gave it away?" She increases her pace.
He blushes but keeps talking like she hadn't said anything. "I'm the chief of police here." He holds out a hand for her to shake. "Charles Abbott," he adds.
Veronica supposes that she shouldn't be rude to the police. She shakes his hand. "Veronica Walters. Could you direct me toward the nearest hotel?"
The look he's giving her is strangely familiar, like they've become great friends during this encounter. "My house has a guest room if you would like to make use of it. Just until you get a place of your own, of course. Nothing untoward would happen," he rushes to assure her.
"No thank you," Veronica says forcefully, trying to shut down his line of thought. "A hotel will suit me just fine."
He nods slowly in understanding, some of the hope leaving his expression. "Of course. Head that way for three blocks, then turn right. You should find our bed and breakfast 8 blocks further."
"Thank you," Veronica says before walking off. She doesn't look back to see how he reacts, afraid of encouraging him further. That was much more than the normal friendliness of a small town. Veronica frowns. Perhaps she'll look into this man later on. For now, she brushes off the encounter and focuses on getting herself to the bed and breakfast.
.:.
Haven is a quaint seaside town. Veronica takes an immediate liking to it. It reminds her of home, always so secretive and gossipy, but so much more beautiful. She could while away an age exploring, assuming she can find a job.
Unfortunately, the teaching position that Byron had spoken of has been filled. There are no other jobs to speak of, aside from waitressing at the local winesink. The scenery isn't worth abandoning her dreams. As soon as Veronica mentions the possibility, the people of Haven suggest half a dozen jobs she could take if she so pleased. Most of them are low paying professions that she could never get by on. The only one that sticks out to her is a live-in position as a nanny.
Well, she was working with children before, as a teacher, so she ought to know how to deal with them. It's not such a stretch, and she has been looking for a reason to stay in town.
She decides to inquire about the position at the Dutton household the next day.
.:.
Mrs. Dutton answers the door after Veronica's third knock. She smiles kindly. "What might I get you, Miss?"
"I've come to ask after the nanny position, if it's still open." Veronica tries to copy the warm, pleasant tone that those from Haven possess. She wouldn't want to make a bad first impression.
"Of course. Come in." Mrs. Dutton is a young woman, only Veronica's senior by a handful of years. She looks striking in a blue dress that matches her eyes. Her black hair is piled elaborately on her head. "I don't believe I've seen you around town before. What's your name?"
"I've only just arrived." Though it seems like everyone in Haven has already taken the chance to ogle the newcomer. Veronica hopes that will wear off in the coming weeks. "I'm Veronica Walters."
"Nice to meet you, Miss Walters. I'm Rose Dutton. You'll be caring for my children." Veronica marvels at how trusting these people are. She hasn't said more than a few sentences, and this woman is already prepared to hand over her children.
"The pleasure is mutual, Mrs. Dutton. Where might I put my baggage?"
"Please, call me Rose. It's right this way." Rose leads Veronica out of the foyer, up a set of stairs, and down a hallway to a room. The accommodations are modest, but they're more than enough for Veronica.
"Thank you," Veronica says politely.
"Of course." Rose smiles brightly. "So, how much of the town have you seen?"
.:.
Rose takes it upon herself to show Veronica around town. The things Veronica sees amaze her. Haven has its share of spectacular views. It looks like something out of a postcard.
They take the children, too. Young as they are and having seen no other place all their lives, they cannot appreciate Haven in the same way, but it gives Veronica a chance to get to know the children and the town.
Rose has three children. The eldest, 12 years, is a boy named Sam who spends much of his time in Haven's school. Christina is nine and acts awfully old for her age, already declaring herself a suffragette. Veronica secretly encourages that wherever she can. Isaac is the youngest, only four and very energetic and excited about everything.
"Why hire a nanny at all if you mean to come with us on all our dashing adventures?" Veronica jokingly asks as they picnic on one of Haven's small, rocky beaches.
"I will stop soon," she assures Veronica. She bites into a strawberry and glances at the children playing by the water. "I only want to see that my children are in good hands. I'm going job hunting soon."
"Oh?" Rose had spoken of nothing of the sort. So many married women don't bother looking for work, especially when they're as well off as the Duttons. "Do you think you can find work in town?"
"That is my hope. I can write, so I hope I can get a good assistant job." She sounds hopeful. Veronica knows that those assistant jobs don't pay enough to live off of, but she supposes that's not a concern for Rose.
"That sounds lovely. I wish you luck."
"Thank you." Rose beams and presses a kiss to Veronica's cheek. Veronica can't stop the smile that spreads across her face after Rose turns to look at the children again.
.:.
Veronica sees the first evidence of oddness in Haven a week after she takes the job at the Duttons'. Christina is reading one of her father's books while Sam is at school and Isaac runs around the docks. Whenever he gets too close to the edge, Veronica drags him back.
Isaac makes her chase him halfway across the harbor until she's out of breath. Christina will be alright on her own for a minute. Many of the sailors nearby know her family and wouldn't let anyone hurt her. She stops for a minute and sees something odd in the water, something human shaped.
As soon as the realization of what this might be hits her, Veronica leans down to pull them out of the water. If they've been in there for any considerable amount of time, they're dead already, but Veronica reaches an arm down and grips the body.
Isaac creeps up behind her, disappointed that she isn't chasing him anymore. "Go find your sister," she tells him. He runs off in the right direction. It must be pretty serious for him to actually follow instructions in a timely fashion.
She pulls up the body and leaves it on the dock. A sailor comes up behind her. "Should I tell the police?"
"Yes." Someone ought to investigate what had killed the man. It could be drowning, but Veronica doesn't think so. The man has bruises lining his arms and looks far from at peace in death.
The sailor is gone now. Veronica decides to stay by the body until the police come, since they might want to ask questions of the woman who found him. Christina comes after a while, bringing Isaac with her.
She looks at the body, then says, "Gross. Why are we still here?"
"We ought to wait for the police. It won't take much longer."
Isaac seems fascinated by the body. Veronica has the same reaction. She's not nearly as sad and scared as people are supposed to be. Discovering a body provokes a much larger reaction in most people, so Veronica's lack of reaction is odd. The sailor who offered to call the police is giving her a strange look from the other side of the dock. The children don't seem too traumatized by the body, but Veronica still wants to get them away from it as soon as she can.
She remembers when she was little and had wanted so badly to be a doctor, to figure out what made people grow ill and die. Those dreams have long since died; there's no chance that she could afford medical school, even if they took female doctors seriously. But the curiosity remains.
The chief of police doesn't look surprised to see Veronica. "He dead?"
Veronica rolls her eyes. "I don't know. Guess," she snarks bitingly, even though she knows that it's not what she ought to say to a man of authority.
"What killed him?"
She shrugs. "Drowning, I guess." It's best to look like she hasn't put too much thought into it.
"Really?" He isn't even looking at the body, just at her. Veronica wonders if this is meant to be an accusation. Whatever thoughts he might have of her, surely he doesn't think she could have murdered this man.
"No," she answers with certainty, even though she's still not sure whether it's a trap. "See those bruises? Bet if he did drown, someone knocked him off his boat."
The chief of police finally looks away from Veronica and at the dead body. "Mike Ivers. He was last seen in a bar on the other side of town this morning. He got in a fight."
"Explains the bruises. Why didn't you take him in for fighting?" Veronica asks, before remembering that this has nothing to do with her. She probably shouldn't be asking so many questions, but Christina is watching them like this is ten times more interesting than her books, so Veronica feels enough pride to keep going.
"He disappeared."
Veronica quirks an eyebrow. "Literally?" People don't just disappear.
"Yep. Been looking for him all day."
She studies his face. He isn't kidding. "Sure he wasn't just in a rush to leave?"
"You really believe that?"
"No," she admits. If what he's saying is true, it doesn't make any sense, but the truth doesn't always make sense. Veronica read supernatural novels when she was younger, and she isn't about to be the protagonist who doesn't believe in magic until it's too late.
He looks at her like there's a bitter taste in his mouth. "I think there are some things we should talk about."
.:.
"The chief of police said the strangest thing today," Veronica tells Rose after they've put the children to bed.
"Did he?" Rose looks the picture of content laid back across the couch with a wine glass in hand. Her hair is down, and a small smile plays across her face. Christina had told her earlier in a thoroughly excited tone about how Veronica had found a body. Rose doesn't like her children seeing that, but she isn't mad at Veronica.
"Yes. He said that Haven has Troubles, of a sort. People here have odd powers or curses. Do you suppose he's mad? Or does he take me for a fool?"
Rose looks at Veronica like she's deciding whether to tell her something. Veronica hates that look; she's been seeing it far too much since arriving in Haven. She knows every town has its secrets, but normally those secrets don't leave a man dead.
Rose sets her wine glass down on the table, then stands up and walks to the kitchen. She picks up a piece of paper and a pen on the way, then a teacup once she's in there.
Veronica looks at Rose like she's her favorite puzzle. "What are you doing?"
"Just watch," Rose orders.
Veronica watches closely and curiously. She wonders what this has to do with what they were speaking of just a moment ago, the Troubles. Rose draws the cup. The drawing has beautiful detail. Each pattern on the cup is captured perfectly in the sketch. Veronica stares at it in awe. What is someone with this kind of skill doing getting a job as a typist? She could do beautiful portraits with such a fine hand.
"It's lovely," Veronica tells her, hoping that she sounds impressed enough. "You're very good."
Rose smiles. "Thank you. But that wasn't what I wanted you to watch."
Veronica frowns. Rose tears the paper in two, and the cup falls apart exactly in half as well, along the same line. Veronica gasps, staring in awe at the cup. Rose flicks one of the half sheets of paper, and that half of the cup falls to the floor as if she had flicked it directly.
"The Troubles are real," she says, as if Victoria needs any more proof. She believes what is right before her eyes. "Anything that happens to my drawings happens to their subjects. It's why I don't do portraits anymore."
Veronica doesn't know what to say. She feels like she should say something serious and proper, but instead she bursts out, "Wow." She must sound something like a delighted and fascinated child, because that is how she feels.
.:.
There is a knock on the door during the early morning. Veronica is eating breakfast with the children and joking lightly with them. Rose goes to answer the door. When she comes back, the police chief is following her.
Veronica doesn't think she likes that man. He wears his secrets like a second skin, and whenever he looks at her, she can see the disappointment in his eyes. It's like he wants her to be someone that she isn't, and every reminder of her gives him pain. Considering the amount of heartbreak she seems to cause him, she would think he wouldn't want to spend so much time around her.
It's an odd relationship to have with someone she's only met a few times. Sometimes she thinks that perhaps he's just not very friendly, but he never gives anyone else that look, like they just killed his puppy. It's the only emotion she ever sees on his face.
But apparently they need her. She doesn't know why; she's no investigator, and they must have other, better trained officers at their disposal. But they pick Veronica every time they have a weird call, like she's the expert on something that plagues a town she's a newcomer to.
But she doesn't complain. She loves it.
Rose has gotten used to it. Her husband is almost always gone on a business trip or doing important things in town, so she can't ask him to look after the children. Veronica must be the worst nanny there ever has been, but Haven is oddly understanding. It's like everyone knows something she doesn't.
How many more secrets can one town have?
Abbott - he tells her to call him Charles, but then looks even more pained when she does, so she lets it stay impersonal - pulls her aside as they walk to the carriage. "I have to tell you something."
Veronica frowns at the implications of his serious tone. "Go ahead."
He gestures for her to get into the carriage first. Veronica lifts her skirt and climbs in, then turns to him eagerly, if a bit anxiously. "What? Is it a Trouble?" It can't be a harmless one with him looking like that, but he always looks sad. Perhaps it's not so bad.
"No, nothing new." He looks distracted. He would be handsome, all tall, dark, broody, and secretive, if he weren't about sixty. Anyway, if Veronica is going to have a crush on an unattainable married person, it's going to be Rose.
The rest of the trip passes without further conversation. Usually they can at least manage small talk; if they're going to work together, they should be decent to one another. This time they're distracted and agitated enough that they let the ride pass with only the horses' hoof beats to fill the silence.
Once they're at the station, he leads her into his office and closes the door behind them. Veronica crosses her arms over her chest. "What is this about?" she demands.
He doesn't answer. He fishes around in his desk for a moment, then pulls out a rolled up piece of paper. Veronica just stares at him, waiting to see what he'll do. He unrolls it.
The scroll is a portrait of her, one that she doesn't remember posing for. The woman looks like Veronica, except that her hair is black, unlike Veronica's light brown hair.
Veronica just stares at the portrait for a moment, until the shock wears off. She turns back to the chief. "Who is this?"
"Rebecca Dedrick. She came to Haven 27 years ago for a summer vacation." He speaks fondly, like he knew her well. Veronica supposes it would explain a lot.
"Haven isn't quite as relaxing as it seems."
He gives her an oddly familiar look. "She helped me with the Troubles last time. She had this," he gestures at the picture, "done to remember her by." In contrast to how sad he seems when he looks at Veronica, his expression when he talks about Rebecca is so happy. He clearly loved her dearly, and something happened to her. Veronica knows that it must be her appearance that makes him so sad. She is so like the woman he loved.
"What happened to her?"
That question grounds him back in reality. "She vanished on the night that the Troubles ended. I haven't seen her since." That last part doesn't sound nearly as final as Veronica wants it to, like he still has one last desperate hope.
"I'm not her." Veronica knows that much to be true. She could never be the lavish, clearly rich woman in the painting. It is a life that could never fit her, because she gets bored so easily, and she's always had so many big, unattainable dreams. And also because she doesn't remember any of this, and it's ridiculous. This woman is just a before unknown relative, even though Veronica knows all her relatives and has never heard the name Dedrick before. "Perhaps she's a relative. My great aunt, maybe."
The words ring hollow even to Veronica's ears. The woman in the image has far too much in common with her.
"Excuse me," she says, then rushes outside to clear her head with fresh air.
.:.
Christina seems to think of Veronica as some kind of hero. As with the ones she reads about in her books, she is always eager for another story.
"What then?" she asks, eyes wide, enraptured with the only slightly exaggerated tale Veronica is weaving.
"Detective Gibbins had to fight off the angry tiger while I spoke to the girl projecting it."
"Why couldn't you fight off the tiger?"
Rose walks into the room. Veronica says, "I couldn't see the tiger. And it wouldn't go away until someone calmed the girl."
Christina nods, giving Veronica the cue to go on. Rose speaks before Veronica can restart. "I think it might be time for bed."
"But Mom!" Christina immediately protests. "She was just getting to the good part!"
"There will be time for that in the morning," Veronica promises. She glances at the clock. It's later than she had thought.
Christina pouts. "Fine," she says dragging out the word and then slowly trudging to her room.
"I suppose you vanquished the tiger in the end?" Rose asks lightly and sits next to Veronica on the couch.
Veronica smiles. "I showed the girl how to rid us of it. Vanquished might be a strong word." Her immunity to the Troubles, while useful in instances such as tigers, seems strange. It's like a superpower from Christina's books, something that shows that this is what she's meant to do. It also serves to further connect her with Rebecca, who Abbott said also had a way with the Troubles. It bothers her that Haven seems to know her better than she knows herself at times.
"I'm sure it was quite dashing," Rose teases. "Now what's wrong?"
Veronica isn't in the habit of keeping things from people she likes. She wouldn't tell Abbott how shaken she is by the things he said, but Rose is another story.
"I'm not sure who I am." Veronica laughs darkly. "I don't think I'm really here, really me. Really real."
Rose puts a hand on her shoulder sympathetically. She kisses her on the cheek, an odd swerve occurring in the motion like she was originally going to do something else. "You're real to me."
.:.
On one of Veronica's explorations of the town on her day off she finds a church. She is not always faithful, and no one would call her a good Christian, but she figures the good Reverend will not mind her sitting in on his service.
She gets a few strange looks and a couple openly hostile ones as she takes a seat in the back, but she doesn't let it bother her. Let the town have its secrets. It's her day off.
The Reverend speaks at length about God's just punishments. According to him, He curses those who deserve to suffer. The service amounts to a rant against the Troubled. The anger coils tightly in Veronica's stomach, ready to burst. She has never much cared for religious leaders who judge as is not their place.
Once the Reverend has finished, he spends some time conversing with those who attended his service. Veronica is prepared to storm out in a rage, but the Reverend approaches her before she can.
"I don't believe we've met. You must be the Duttons' new nanny." News travels fast in towns small as this, Veronica tells herself. She has nothing to fear from an old man.
"That I am. You spoke inspirationally, Reverend." That is the truth; even if he hasn't inspired her, he has surely indoctrinated these people with a hatred for their Troubled kin.
He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. Veronica looks around for a familiar face to help her out of this situation. She recognizes few of the people and knows none of them well enough to hope that they will see her plight. Perhaps there is a reason that she was never told about this church.
"Miss Walters - it is Walters, isn't it?" he asks, like he knows exactly who she is. Veronica forces herself to nod pleasantly while planning her escape. "There is someone I would like you to meet."
"Thank you, Reverend, but I really ought to - "
"It will only take a minute," he interrupts.
People are starting to take notice of their conversation. Veronica stays on her best behavior, feeling like she's walking a dangerous path. These people must know that she helps the ones they hate. "I suppose I could spare a minute."
The Reverend leads her to a man standing toward the front of the church. He stands a foot taller than the Reverend, and his eyes and hair are dark. The man is young and handsome, no more than ten years Veronica's senior.
"Miss Walters, meet Manuel Crocker. Manuel, this is Veronica Walters."
Crocker grips one of Veronica's hands between his two and shakes firmly. "It's a pleasure." His voice is deep and friendly, but something about him makes Veronica feel unsafe.
Veronica can't help but feel that the moment is more important than she can understand.
.:.
Veronica spends the dawn of a new year drinking wine with Rose. The children are asleep, and Rose's husband Michael is gone on yet another business trip, so it's just the two of them.
Veronica remembers another new year, the turn of the twentieth century, spent among friends at a large event. She hasn't seen those friends since leaving Connecticut, hasn't even written. Now she doesn't even know how much of that life was real. This is different enough that it distracts her from those thoughts. It's more intimate. She doesn't mind the change.
When the clock turns to midnight of a new year, Rose presses a kiss to Veronica's lips. It's rushed and uncoordinated but not entirely unpleasant. The smell of wine lingers on Rose from hours of drinking, though, and it serves to remind Veronica that Rose will regret this come morning. It is up to her to be the reasonable one and stop this before it goes any further.
"You have a husband," Veronica reminds Rose.
"I don't care," Rose slurs. "And neither does he. He doesn't care for me much, truly."
Veronica had guessed as much, but that still doesn't change the fact that they're both drunk. This is no time to make life changing decisions. "We'll see what you want in the morning."
.:.
Veronica is kept especially busy for the next few days. Apparently holidays tend to bring out the Troubles in people. Veronica isn't able to have the full conversation she's wanted with Rose.
She doesn't know whether Rose wants to talk about it. With all the wine, perhaps she doesn't even remember. If she does, perhaps she views it as a brief lapse in sanity brought on by alcohol. But that kiss has given Veronica hope that her feelings could be mutual, and hope can be a most dangerous thing.
Veronica mentions the incident on the morning of January fourth. Rose is readying herself for work when Veronica slips into her room, knocking on the door to heed her arrival. "Do you have a moment?"
Rose's back is to Veronica. She puts a necklace on. "Yes."
"Do you remember our new year's celebration?" Veronica asks bluntly.
Rose stills. "Yes." Her tone is soft. It leaves Veronica unsure of her feelings.
There is nowhere to go but forward. "You kissed me."
Rose turns to face Veronica. "I do hope I haven't made you uncomfortable."
Veronica can tell that Rose means to say more meaningless courtesies. She speaks before Rose can. "You haven't."
Rose looks surprised, but then her face breaks into the tentative smile Veronica has been waiting for. "Oh?"
"If you still mean what you said, I'd like to try it out." Veronica tries to go for casual, but she must fail entirely. This moment is anything but casual.
Rose only smiles wider. "I'd like that."
.:.
Michael, Rose's husband, comes back to town in mid January. Veronica doesn't want it to hurt her and Rose's budding relationship, but it's hard not to be jealous and a little bitter when her and Rose's late night drinks become less frequent.
"It's only for a little while," Rose promises, but it's in a whisper so her husband doesn't hear. This is a stolen moment in the dark kitchen when Veronica wants so much more. "He will leave again, probably soon." According to Rose, he spends more than half his time on business trips, often going away for months at a time.
Veronica knows that it isn't Rose's fault, so she tries to be sympathetic and patient. Troubles will keep her out of the house most of the time, so it isn't as though she'll be interacting with him on a personal level much. "I know." She covers Rose's hand with her own. She doesn't dare do anything more in the kitchen where Michael could walk in on them. "It's okay."
Rose nods, but she still looks preoccupied and nervous. She glances at the steps again, as though Michael is already searching for her. She rubs her thumb along Veronica's hand. "I should get back."
Veronica nods, but she can't resist giving Rose a quick kiss before she retreats back up the steps. Rose pulls back before it can become less chaste. "When he's gone," she says. "I promise."
.:.
Despite having been out of contact with their father for about 2 months, the children aren't eager to spend time with him. Veronica supposes it's something like her relationship with her mother; the less they hear from each other, the easier they get along.
The only thing that helps Veronica's opinion of Michael is that he does seem to try, even if his attempts are half-hearted and awkward. One morning about a week after he arrived, he announces at the breakfast table, "I'm taking Sam to work with me today. It's time he learned the ropes."
Sam was raised too well to groan or roll his eyes. Veronica knows that he had hoped to have a day off this Saturday, since he had had two tests over the past week that caused him sleepless nights, not to mention that he has little to no interest in his father's work. The way Michael phrased it leaves no room to argue. Sam sighs quietly enough that his father can't hear and takes two eggs from the fridge to cook.
Satisfied with Sam's lack of argument, Michael turns his attention to Veronica. "So you're the nanny my wife hired. It's a pleasure. How have the children been treating you?"
"The pleasure is mutual," Veronica replies with a forced smile. "I love getting to know your children. They're darling." It's what he wants to hear, and from what Veronica knows about men like him, the path of least resistance is to do what they expect.
Michael makes a humming noise that might be assent.
Christina has just finished her breakfast only to pull out a book and immediately immerse herself in it. Her head is clearly between the pages rather than present at the table. Michael seems ready to comment, so Veronica decides to step in. "Christina, would you like to go for a walk toward the harbor?"
She looks up and smiles. "Certainly. Might I be excused, Father?"
"Clear your plate first," he says gently.
Their rushed exit from the house feels like an escape. Veronica appreciates the fresh air. There is the faintest taste of the salty ocean breeze, more difficult to discern through the harsh cold air of Maine in January. Veronica shivers and pulls her coat tighter around herself. It's difficult to walk through the piles of snow that are slowly turning to slush on the sidewalk. She's afraid that it will ruin her shoes.
Christina laughs. "You're not quite used to Maine winters, are you?" She looks perfectly at home in the weather.
Veronica would have blushed if her cheeks weren't already red from the cold. "They take some getting used to."
"Are you certain you want to go to the harbor? You could catch a chill." Christina's worry is flippant and teasing. "You should get better shoes for the snow."
Veronica smirks. "I know. Perhaps I'll buy some in the spring after I collect a few more paychecks."
"You won't need them in the spring," Christina points out. She climbs up on one of the snow piles, making her a good deal taller than Veronica, though she was close to that level anyway.
Veronica slips on a patch of ice, hitting her knee on the pavement. Christina hops down off the snow pile and helps her up. "Don't worry. Soon you'll used to it. You're a local now."
She states it like a simple fact, making Veronica smile. Never has she felt so much like she belongs in Haven as when she spends time with the Duttons.
.:.
There is a family in Haven who turn everything they touch to ice when they're stressed, apparently, or there was, in any case. "They died in a severe boating accident last year," Abbott explains. "Only their youngest daughter, Susan, survived."
"So this is her Trouble?" Veronica asks, watching the medical responders wrap the young children in hot blankets. "We should talk to her."
"She's three years old," Abbott states like it's something Veronica could have missed.
Veronica knows how to talk to children well enough. Abbott seems to forget that she is a teacher and a nanny. "Is that her there?" Veronica nods toward an upset looking blonde girl.
He nods reluctantly. Before he can say anything else to dissuade her, Veronica approaches Susan. "Hello."
"Who are you?" asks Susan with all the forcefulness of an angry, stressed toddler.
"Veronica," she responds calmly.
Susan nods. "You're here 'cause I did it," she says, words calm. She looks up at Abbott, steely eyed. "You here to take me in?"
"Can you control it?" Veronica asks. Susan shakes her head. "Then he's not here to take you in."
Veronica can feel Susan and Abbott's eyes on her, both willing her to go on. "Things like this can't become a regular occurrence, though. Do you think you could learn to control this?"
Susan frowns thoughtfully. "My family must have known stuff. I could ask Auntie."
It's a start. "Good. Will she be here soon?" She can see other parents picking up their children from the outside of the slowly thawing day care center.
Susan shrugs. She's squirming and looking around at the other children. Now that they're warmed up, this is just an extra recess. "Join them. We'll just wait around and talk to your aunt."
The aunt doesn't get there. Once all the other children are gone, some other officers show up. "What's going on?" Veronica demands, blocking their way to Susan.
The officers aren't supposed to give information to people outside their work, but they have all adapted to the fact that Veronica assists them now, even though many of them still think it improper. This one looks particularly annoyed by her presence. "All due respect, ma'am, this girl's legal guardian is dead."
Veronica's eyes widen. That complicates things. How is the girl to keep a level head if she is torn away from her home and her last piece of family? "What killed her?"
The officer looks unhappy to tell her anything of that sort, as though Veronica can't stomach talk of death. It's absurd. Veronica has nowhere near the time for this nonsense. Abbott must give him one of his signature looks, because he does answer, though he directs the words at Abbott rather than Veronica, as though that will protect her delicate mind. "Murder. We didn't catch him. The neighbor could describe someone who went in the house earlier. Sounds like Crocker." He looks at Susan. "One way to find out."
Crocker is the man the Reverend introduced her to in the church, Veronica remembers. She isn't following the rest of this conversation, though, so she steps in front of the officer when he makes for the door again. "Explain," she orders, staring Abbott down. Both of the men look uncomfortable now, but Veronica won't be made to look a fool. If they want her help, she's going to know what's going on.
"I will. Let him in." Abbott's tone is gentle but stern. Veronica knows he's telling the truth.
Veronica steps aside reluctantly, then immediately walks up to Abbott and drags him aside. She raises an eyebrow expectantly.
"The Crockers have a Trouble that takes away other Troubles. When they kill one member of a family, the Trouble is gone for the whole family."
Veronica pauses to take that in. Manuel Crocker had seemed odd, creepy, maybe a little overly religious, but she hadn't taken him for a killer. "And they do this often? Why don't you arrest them?"
"They do it to those with dangerous Troubles sometimes. It rather depends on the Crocker, I suppose, and this one wasn't old enough to get involved last time." He frowns. "I believe his son goes here, actually. Perhaps that's the cause for this."
"So your plan is to upset that little girl to see whether she freezes your officer?"
Abbott shrugs. "She had to be told about her aunt. And we need to confirm that Crocker did it."
"So that you can arrest him?"
"We don't have any evidence on which to convict. The Troubled evidence is worthless in court." Veronica wonders if Rebecca was more agreeable to doing nothing in cases such as this. The fact that it's still happening tells her all she needs to know.
"Do something anyway! Do something that doesn't stick, do something that sticks better than law. Just don't do nothing!" How could he not understand the importance of human life? What other reason was there to enforce laws, but helping people?
"Something that sticks better than law," he repeats, "like becoming killers ourselves? What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking that there's no shame in killing a killer. There must be a break in the cycle, Abbott. I would be surprised if your Rebecca did not think the same."
He looks hurt, but her last sentence seems to seal the deal for him. "Do what you will, but me and my men will have no part in it."
"Fine," she answers coldly. It is not the first time she has had to work alone.
.:.
Veronica leaves early the next morning. It is easy to come up with excuses. "Abbott requires my opinion on a case we started yesterday," she lies at the breakfast table.
"What could the chief of police want with you?" Michael asks with a disapproving tone.
"Veronica helps them solve crimes," Christina answers proudly. "They need her help with a lot of cases."
Michael shakes his head. "Lord, what nonsense have you put in her head now?" he mutters, but doesn't push the point further.
They don't notice her slipping a kitchen knife into her dress.
She doesn't actually know where to find Manuel Crocker, but she decides to check the church first. She has never seen him anywhere else, nor even heard about another place aside from those where he murdered people. She shudders at the thought and finally starts to think about what she means to do. She, a woman working alone with only a kitchen knife, is setting herself against a skilled killer in his own place. She should have at least told someone where she was going, she thinks, but she's not turning back. She at least wants to speak with him.
The Reverend is an evasive man, but she eventually wheedles an address out of him. The house is a short walk from the church. Veronica walks right up to the door and knocks before she has time to be afraid.
A woman opens the door and looks surprised to see Veronica. "Who are you?" she asks. Most would find it rudely forward, but Veronica is glad that it gives her the excuse to act the same.
"Veronica Walters. Is Manuel Crocker here?"
The woman smirks. "What do you want with my dearest brother? Did he sleep with you, too?" She doesn't seem to be joking. Veronica wonders how many vices the seemingly godly man has.
"No," she says, but declines to tell her anything more.
"I'm Helen Crocker. His sister." She smiles in the same way as her brother, Veronica notices, but it seems more predatory.
"Nice to meet you."
"What do you want with him if you're not another of his castoffs?"
Veronica wonders whether she should come up with a story or stick with the truth. She can't say she's there on police investigation, even if Helen would believe that they'd send a woman alone. "Can I just talk to him?"
"You're that woman who's been travelling around with the police," Helen notes. "Yeah, you can see him, I guess. He's in his room, up the stairs and to the right."
"Thank you," Veronica says and walks into the house. Trashed might be a bit of a strong word, one that Veronica wouldn't normally use to describe a house that she's a guest in, but it seems apt. Things are strewn across the floor to the point where she has difficulty finding a path the few yards to the stairs. It looks like it hasn't seen a proper cleaning in years.
Walking in there feels like walking into a lion's den. Veronica knows that she won't be able to get out of there nearly fast enough should her plan go awry. Should it go right, she will have to get past Helen. Come to think of it, wouldn't Helen have the same Trouble as her brother? She could be just as dangerous given the right provocation.
There's no turning back now, though, so she goes up the steps. The door to his room is already open, so Veronica just walks in. She sees no reason to be anything but forward. "Did you kill that young girl's aunt?" If he did, he'll know what she means.
He stares at her blankly. "Excuse me?"
"A woman with an ice Trouble was killed yesterday. A witness described someone like you coming into her home just minutes before."
"No. I wouldn't do such a thing." He seems unsurprised at the accusation, but his denial is harsh and final.
The way Abbott talked about it the other day, there could be no other suspects. The officer had upset Susan, but the room had stayed warm. Veronica thinks it over for a moment before she comes up with the answer. "Excuse me," Veronica says to Manuel. She leaves before he can answer.
As she walks down the stairs, Veronica hears quiet, cheerful singing coming from the right of the stairs. She turns the corner and sees Helen Crocker in a chair, polishing something with a dirty rag. When Veronica takes a closer look, she recognizes the parts of a gun. Helen looks up, not seeming surprised to see Veronica. "Hello again," she says with a smile. "Have you tired of my brother so soon?"
"Did you kill the woman with the ice Trouble?" she asks. It seems easier to be direct. With the gun on Helen's lap, she doubts her suspicions are wrong. Her gaze is caught on the gun parts, which Helen continues to clean, still humming quietly.
She stops humming and looks into Veronica's eyes. "Oh, so you figured it out, then? Marvelous!"
"Why? Why do you kill people?"
Helen's lips curl into a coy smile. "Why, to take away Troubles, of course! It is all noble work. And the highs are fantastic." She clicks the clean gun pieces into place. Veronica knows she can do nothing against that war machine and the woman who knows how to wield it. She backs up a few steps and takes her hand away from the concealed knife.
"I won't shoot you," Helen says, though she clearly enjoys Veronica's fear. "Well, so long as you don't tell anyone. And get out of my home."
Veronica is quick to obey. She leaves the house, but she knows that isn't the end of it. She will not sit idly by while people get killed.
.:.
People are falling over dead in the street for no apparent reason. It's causing a panic in town. Veronica finds the connection that the rest missed. The deaths are centered geographically. She and Abbott ride in his carriage to the center. Veronica gets herself out before Abbott can open the door for her. She walks up to the door and knocks firmly.
Abbott looks at her, confused. "Did you hear - " then suddenly he falls. Veronica gets on her knees beside him. He gives off no signs of being alive. Disbelief and panic war for dominance in her mind. Veronica pushes off both of them. She needs to finish this. She needs to make sure no one else dies.
A man with a tear stained face opens the door slowly. He stares at Abbott and Veronica kneeling beside him. "I - what - "
"I need to talk to you."
.:.
Veronica surveys the damage of the Trouble later. It feels strange to do this alone. It still hasn't quite sunk in yet, she thinks. Abbott was a pest at times, but they had been friends, and Veronica had cared for him.
Michael picks her up from the town square turned crime scene. One of the newspaper men is snapping pictures. Veronica wonders what the town paper has to say about events like this. She hasn't had time to read it.
"Is this the kind of thing you help with, then?" He frowns. "What happened here?"
"It won't happen again," Veronica deflects. That is a certainty, at least. One of the police officers had shot the poor man while Veronica was talking to him. She is still angry, but she has a sinking feeling that the police won't be listening to her much anymore.
He frowns but doesn't push further. Most likely, he thinks she has been overwhelmed by the day's events. Honestly, Veronica feels the part. "Shall we get away from this, then? Christina awaits your stories at home."
Veronica thinks she should stay, to see this through. She feels guilty over it, as if she could have saved all these people. Maybe she could have saved Abbott.
It makes no difference now. She turns away and forces a smile for Michael. "Yes. Were the children good today?"
.:.
As she predicted, it's much more difficult to help out now. The police officers don't want her to tag along on their cases anymore. The new chief, appointed surprisingly quickly, thinks it improper that a woman see the work they do and preposterous that she would be better at it than him. Gibbins, a sweet young detective who worked with her on a few cases, offers to tell her what he can. Veronica doubts that it will help much.
The Troubles persist, and Veronica still tries to get close to them. One day on the sidelines she sees Helen. The Trouble is a dangerous one, causing large rocks to fall from the sky onto whoever the Troubled person is jealous of. Apparently the teenage boy was jealous of his best friend.
"What brings you here? I thought they didn't want you anymore." Her smile makes her look like a wolf, evil and predatory.
"I didn't come for them," she answers simply, wondering why she's talking to Helen at all. Nothing good can come of that.
"Me neither." Helen pulls a knife out of the folds of her dress. Veronica has seen hunting knives and kitchen knives carried in self-defense, but this is neither, an ornately carved blade made for killing.
"Can I talk to him first?" Veronica doesn't think it is so much to ask. She can deal with Helen if her talking to this boy doesn't work.
"And teach a teenager from the poor side of Haven not to be jealous of his peers? You're not a miracle worker."
"Let me try."
Helen raises an eyebrow. "Let you fail, you mean. Let another person die before I can finish this."
"You would kill an innocent teenage boy. Do you truly believe the Reverend's bullshit about these being God's curses?"
Helen looks pleasantly surprised at Veronica's use of language. "Most of it is bullshit, yes, but these curses need to go. If I have the curse that does away with them, I have a duty to use it."
Veronica doesn't argue about her duty, because she knows that Helen must have heard all the arguments by now. It is unlikely that Veronica will be able to change her mind. "I thought you did it for the highs."
"Can't a girl have multiple motivations?" She smiles crookedly. Veronica wonders how she can be so cheerful and remorseless.
"Just distract them while I talk to him. They won't let either of us get close. If my plan doesn't work, we'll go to yours."
Helen looks at Veronica thoughtfully, then smiles smugly. "Deal."
.:.
Michael leaves on another business trip. The children aren't upset; this happens all the time. He is gone more often than he is here. Veronica stays with the children while Rose is off at work the day he leaves; it is not as though they'll miss her at the police station.
Later, she and Rose put the children to bed in the way that Michael and Rose had when he was there. It makes Veronica think of things that could be, if the world were a better place for those who aren't heterosexual men.
The part after that gets rid of thoughts that can never become reality. In fact, it gets rid of all thoughts rather effectively. Veronica had never figured Rose for the sort to do things like this just a few thin walls from her sleeping children less than a day after her husband had left. It is not a bad surprise.
Rose turns over after, more beautiful than ever in the afterglow. "I could get used to this."
Veronica could, too. It's scary how easily she could fall into this life. Perhaps Mother was right, after all; she was only looking for the right person, though she's not exactly in a rush to quit her work with the Troubles. But this is something that can never see the light of day, unfortunately. She doesn't want to ruin the moment, though, so she just says, "Me too," and wraps an arm around her.
.:.
Helen Crocker becomes a business partner of sorts, though Veronica can't say that she likes her. They need each other to get into the Troubled crime scenes. Helen has some information source that tells her about the incidents as soon as they happen. Somehow, Veronica becomes the first person she comes to with the new cases.
It's nothing like working with Abbott. Abbott had come to her with very different expectations. Helen is full of challenges and competition, still treating murder like a game, but she doesn't want Veronica to be anything she's not. It's refreshing, and though Veronica won't deny that it was easier when she had Abbott, she was never one to prefer the easier path.
It's easy to build camaraderie when they're complaining about the same things. Even if they have vastly different goals and morals, they make a team.
Helen is infuriating most of the time. She is smug and vicious and has a horrible sense of humor. And even though Veronica has surely gotten into more crime scenes because of Helen, the association makes those who might have helped her less inclined to. After a while, they're pretty much stuck with each other.
.:.
Helen comes bursting through the door of the Dutton house like she owns the place. Rose is at work, and Sam is at school, so Veronica is left with Christina and Isaac. Christina looks up from her book at the loud noise.
"Oh, you'll never believe what's happened!" Helen exclaims cheerfully. Her appearance is messy, tangly black hair piled on her head in the messiest bun Veronica has ever seen. Her shoes can't be anything other than dirty hunting boots. She has no stockings, even though it's February in Maine.
Veronica walks around her calmly and shuts the door. She doesn't comment on Helen's appearance, though she's sure everyone else will. Christina is staring at her, awestruck and confused.
"Is everything alright?" Veronica asks. Helen's excitement rarely means anything good.
"Cora Jackson can fly," she says, grinning. "Don't worry, I won't kill this one," she adds.
Helen makes herself at home. She explores the kitchen, then comes back and sits down on the couch in the foyer next to Christina. "Who are you?" she asks Helen.
"You haven't told the children heroic stories about me? Oh, I'm hurt."
"Christina, this is Helen. She helps me with the Troubles." Simplifying it is easier than telling Christina about the Crocker family Trouble. Besides, Helen is more often a help than a hindrance. She only kills when it's necessary.
Christina nods eagerly. She loves the stories about women saving the day most of all. "Cora can fly? I didn't know Troubles could be like super powers. Usually they're bad."
Helen nods. "Yup." She pops the p in the way Veronica finds obnoxious. "What do you think it'll be this time, Veronica? Maybe she'll fall unexpectedly. Maybe she won't be able to get down."
"Can we go see her?" Christina asks. "I know her," she plows on, not letting Veronica answer. "Mom has let me see her before, and I want to see a Trouble. Please?"
"What about your brother?" Isaac is running in the yard, trying to find one of the stray cats that was out there yesterday.
"We'll take him," Helen says. "We'd best go soon."
Veronica frowns, but she finds herself agreeing. There is always a catch, and it's best if she's there to manage the fallout. Perhaps Helen will even be in one of her more cooperative moods today and agree to watch the kids. "Fine," she agrees. "Go put your coat on and get Isaac."
.:.
As it turns out, Cora Jackson is taking flight due to a wishing Trouble. It takes them days to solve and causes three casualties before it's run its course. Christina is fascinated. She and Helen get on surprisingly well. Isaac doesn't exactly understand what's going on, but he was very excited about some of the wishes.
Veronica wouldn't have been so worried about them before Abbott's death, but now she is terrified for them. If anything were to happen to them, she doesn't know what she would do. They are one of the parts of her life that she never wants the Troubles to touch.
It's a ridiculous hope, and she knows it. The Troubles will hurt everyone here, and someone will have to be around to help them next time they come around. Christina and Isaac will be just about the right age then. Veronica just has to make sure they make it that far.
She keeps thinking back to Abbott, wondering if Rebecca conditioned him for the same job. She misses him at the oddest times. He was not her first friend in town nor her best, but she still misses him for more reasons than the ease work had when she could use his privileges. He was a good man, and he didn't deserve to die.
She wishes he could have told her more before he died. She wants to know about Rebecca and the Troubles. She wants to know why they stopped 27 years ago and where Rebecca went and why Rebecca looks so much like Veronica. She hates not having the answers, especially when it seems like so many people in town know more than they're letting on.
.:.
Rose is the best thing in Veronica's life, but being with her feels like a precarious balance. One day soon everything will fall apart, because something like this cannot last. Veronica has little reputation to speak of, but Rose is a respected mother and wife. Veronica refuses to be the one who makes her lose all that.
They're happy. Veronica won't let herself get used to it. Something will inevitably go wrong. A Trouble will tear them apart, or someone will find out. Veronica could get run out of town for adultery and homosexuality even if they didn't already hate her.
She's not giving it up until the universe takes it from her, though. They'll have to pry this little bit of happiness away from her.
.:.
"So, you're fucking Rose?" Helen says as soon as they get out of the house one day. "Good for you."
Once again, Veronica is caught off guard by the uncalled for, vulgar things Helen says loud enough for anyone to hear. "Do quiet down please."
"Oh, right," Helen says just as loudly as before. "People are shitty about that sort of thing. I figure you should just take happiness where you can get it."
It's an admirable line of thought, one that Veronica herself subscribes to. She tries to change the subject away from herself. "And you? Do you have a love life to speak of?"
Helen groans. "You sound like my mother. 'Are you married yet, Helen? Whyever not?'" Her imitation of her mother is squeaky and annoying. Veronica stifles a laugh. "I have no interest in romance, truly, with any gender."
Veronica nods. Helen is many things, but she is not a liar. The conversation turns to lighter things as they near the center of town.
.:.
There is a Trouble that temporarily brings the dead back as ghosts. It's one of the simpler Troubles Veronica has encountered, but the amount of grief she sees in one day makes it one of her least favorites.
Veronica has never been less grateful for her immunity to the Troubles than when Helen says, "Your dead police chief friend is following us around."
Veronica turns around immediately, as if she would be able to see him if she concentrated hard enough. "Abbott?" she asks quietly, acutely understanding the grief she saw earlier. She turns to Helen. "Tell him..." With so many questions, she's suddenly unsure of what to ask. "Tell him to tell me all he knows of the Troubles and how they went away." Those questions are more important to this town than anything he has to say about Rebecca, she tells herself.
She waits. Finally, Helen turns back to her. "He says they stopped because Rebecca went away. She left the night of a big meteor storm, the Hunter. He thinks you have to go again to stop them this time."
Veronica's heart clenches. She doesn't want to leave this place, especially not in the permanent way Rebecca did. Can't she be allowed a bit of selfishness? She forces herself to continue her questioning, because the ghostly apparition will fade soon. "Tell him - " she starts, but Helen shakes her head.
"He's gone."
.:.
Veronica lets herself love Rose in the way she's been trying not to. She lets herself get used to their little routines. She lets herself be selfish even though it will only hurt them all.
She ignores the urge to count the days left until the Hunter meteor storm. Multiple sources have said that it happens in April. It's late February already. Veronica can feel the time she has left ticking away.
There has to be a solution other than leaving. For all she knows, Rebecca is dead, and soon she'll be walking into the same trap, only for the Troubles to come back again later. There has to be a more permanent solution, one that doesn't involve human sacrifice. This town is too set in its ways. Veronica intends to change it for the better. She isn't going to give up without a fight.
.:.
Veronica tells Rose everything, because she knows how it feels to be left in the dark, only to find out important things at the worst possible moment. "There was a woman who looked just like me in town last time the Troubles were around. Rebecca Dedrick."
Rose looks at her curiously. "A relative of some kind, then? I didn't know you had family in town."
"Not a relative. She disappeared the night the Troubles ended, during the Hunter meteor storm."
Rose frowns. "It doesn't have to mean anything."
"Abbott said it did. During the ghost Trouble, he said I would have to leave, too, or the Troubles wouldn't end."
Rose's stare is weighted. "If you don't want to go, don't. You owe this town nothing."
Veronica likes that thought, the idea that she can be selfish and save herself instead of the town, but she keeps thinking back to what Helen said when they first met. If she has a duty to stop Troubles, doesn't she owe it to the town to save those lives?
"Maybe you're right," she says instead. It doesn't even sound convincing to her own ears.
.:.
A Trouble that messes with the way time flows activates. It takes a week before Veronica can stop it.
All she can think is that that's one less week she has until the Hunter. It's March now. She still doesn't have a plan.
That's when she starts counting the days. April 14, the newspaper man had said, is when they predict the Hunter will come. It is already March 9. Veronica has about a month and a week. That's 5 weeks; it's 36 days. 35 sunrises, 36 sunsets.
She could still come up with a solution, but it seems less likely every day.
.:.
Veronica is puzzling over her impending disappearance with Helen when Manuel comes down the steps and interrupts, "The Reverend knows how to stop the Troubles."
Helen rolls her eyes. She has none of her brother's faith and respect for the Reverend. "Oh? He happen to tell you, or is it just more of his cryptic bullshit?"
Manuel hesitates. "I must kill her," he tells Helen, nodding toward Veronica. "That will stop the Troubles forever."
Helen looks at Veronica out of the corner of her eyes. Veronica can see the gears turning in her head. She won't let Manuel kill Veronica, but she might do it herself. "You won't need to kill her, Manny. Go pick up Pat." Manuel nods, seeming placated, and goes to find his son.
"We could still find something else," Helen offers. Veronica doubts that they will.
.:.
"Where do you think she went?"
Veronica snorts into her wine. "That's the question, isn't it? She seems to have vanished into thin air. Probably dead." Veronica doesn't think before she says the words, probably as a result of how much wine she's had.
Rose winces. "I'm sure she's not."
"I think I might be her," Veronica says, even though that still doesn't quite make sense. "She went somewhere and became me."
Rose looks at her skeptically. "No. You're real. You're you."
"What makes you so sure?" Rose hasn't known her for all that long, really. Why does everyone have so much faith in Veronica when she can't even have faith in herself?
Instead of answering, Rose kisses her. "We'll figure this out," she promises against Veronica's lips. She's avoiding the question, though. Veronica doesn't understand why people keep making promises they can't keep.
.:.
A Trouble takes up most of her last week. Veronica wishes she could be selfish and take one week off, but it's a deadly one. She can't let people die because of her.
Surprisingly, it's almost enough to keep her distracted. Veronica doesn't think about her deadline for a full day. When the Trouble is resolved, her fall back to reality is harsh.
"I have to leave in three days," she says to Rose, even though she knows that Rose knows the count just as well as she does.
"You don't," Rose tries again. "Please."
Veronica kisses her to shut her up, because neither of them is good at talking about this. It's too late anyway. They're almost out of time.
.:.
"Don't kill me," Veronica instructs Helen, struggling to keep her voice from shaking. "I'll go away." Death is too final; at least by leaving, she knows that she'll come back in some way.
Helen frowns. "The Troubles will come back. People will die."
Veronica's decision is final. She has earned one selfish choice. "We don't even know that the Reverend is right. I have to go away. It's the only thing that we're certain will help."
Helen nods reluctantly. "I won't stop you. I'll keep the town together while you're gone."
Veronica had hoped she would say that. Helen doesn't do anything that she doesn't want to, and she wants to protect the town from the Troubles more than almost anything. Perhaps their friendship means more to her than Veronica would have guessed. Either way, this promise means something. "Thank you."
.:.
"I'm leaving," she tells the children two days before it comes to pass.
Sam bids her good luck wherever her travels take her. Veronica isn't sure that Isaac understands that she means forever, but he will soon enough. Christina's reaction is the worst to see. "Why?" she demands. "Aren't you happy here?"
"I have never been happier, dear. But it is my time to go."
"Have you told Mom yet? When are you leaving?" Her questions sound like the forced words of an upset child. She will get over it quickly, Veronica knows. She is young yet, and these memories will fade.
"In two days. Your mother knows."
"But why?"
Veronica has wondered the same thing herself. She forces a smile for Christina's sake. "Because I have to."
.:.
When Veronica wakes up the day before she is supposed to leave, the sky is already falling. She stares at it in shock. This isn't supposed to be happening yet. She's supposed to have another day.
They must have gotten their calculations wrong. It happens often enough. Veronica grips the bedroom window for dear life and tries not to cry. If Haven was going to make her a human sacrifice, why did they have to give her emotions?
Rose stirs in bed. "What - " she grumbles, then sees what Veronica's looking at. "I thought we had another day."
"Me too," Veronica says, trying to make her voice sound stronger than she feels. She forces herself to turn away and look at Rose. She wants to memorize every inch of Rose so that she can't forget her, even if it's hopeless.
"How much time do you think we have?" Rose asks. She's looking at Veronica with such concern that Veronica almost lets out the tears she's been holding back.
Veronica can feel the familiar urge to help urging her outside like a compass pointing to her doom. "Not much."
Rose looks stricken, but she manages to compose herself. "We should get dressed."
Veronica nods numbly. She goes through the motions of putting her clothes on. It's too late to run from this.
"Do you want to go now?" Rose asks quietly, sounding upset but resigned.
Veronica doesn't want to go at all, but she won't start that discussion with Rose again. She already knows what the answer will be. "I should say my goodbyes first." She has to leave the children on shorter notice than she thought, but she won't leave without bidding them goodbye. Rose nods in understanding.
It's still early, but when she walks into Christina's room, she's already awake and reading. "I must leave sooner than expected," Veronica greets her sorrowfully.
"What?" Christina drops her book. "Where are your bags? Where will you go?"
"I must leave to help the Troubles."
"You leaving won't help the Troubles!" Christina exclaims, confused. "You can only help the Troubles while you're here."
"I'm sorry," Veronica says. She doesn't have time to explain. The meteors are already coming down quickly. Veronica has to get out of town before they get worse.
"Let me see you off, then," Christina says stubbornly.
Veronica doesn't have time to argue, and she can't think of a good reason for Christina to have to stay behind. "Fine. Put your clothes on. I have to say goodbye to your brothers."
.:.
Veronica leads the carriage. Once she gets in, she realizes where she has to go. It's the cliffs she and the Duttons visited when she was new to Haven. It's fitting, she thinks.
She parks the carriage when she sees a barn that definitely wasn't there last time. That's not really what surprises her, though. Howard, her friend who recommended Haven to her, stands in front of the barn. Veronica supposes that she should know that her life is fake by now, but it still hurts to see that yet another piece of it has been leading her toward this fate.
"What do I do?" she asks him. Meteors fly down all around them. It would be beautiful if it weren't deadly. They're coming dangerously close to Haven.
"You already know that." And she does, somehow, but she's not ready to leave yet. She turns back to face Rose and Christina.
"Goodbye," she says, her voice finally breaking. The tears she's been keeping in for weeks are spilling across her cheeks. She can't seem to stop it. Rose wraps her arms around Veronica in a tight hug, then pulls back enough to kiss her. It's deep, and it would be perfect, except that it can't last long enough.
There will never be enough. Veronica has to pull away. Rose takes a step toward her, looking like she wants to say something, but she doesn't. Her expression is one of anguish. Veronica looks away. She can't meet Rose's eyes again, or she'll never go in that damn barn.
"Christina," she forces out shakily. "You be good now. Don't give your mother any trouble." She almost laughs at her word choice.
Christina nods, looking scared and desperate. She rushes forward and hugs Veronica tightly. Her grip is forceful, like she thinks that if she holds tightly enough Veronica won't go away. Eventually, Veronica pulls her off. Christina brushes fiercely at her cheek. "I'll miss you," she says.
Veronica can't bring herself to say anything more. She nods slowly. This is it, she realizes. It's over. She turns back to Howard and walks slowly and deliberately into the barn. Her steps feel heavy.
She takes one last look before she goes. "Work on it before I come back. Make this be the last time." Veronica doesn't want to think that when she comes back, she won't be herself anymore. A falling meteor causes an explosive noise in the distance.
Rose bites her lip. She's crying, too, now. Veronica wants to comfort her, but the meteors falling around them keep her where she is. Rose nods reluctantly. Veronica looks at Howard. "I guess I have to go now." Her voice shakes.
He says nothing. Veronica supposes she doesn't need an answer. She walks into the barn.
.:.
(The woman who used to be Veronica Walters awakens briefly. She remembers little. She is almost the next woman, but she clings to herself for a while longer. Her persistence would be amazing if it weren't hopeless, the guardian thinks.
She mutters names as she wanders through the haze the Barn has put her in, the names of those she loved this time. Rose, Christina, Helen, Abbott.
When the guardian asked her who she wanted to be when she came back, this incarnation had answered, "Make me strong enough to handle it. And put me somewhere where I can see them."
By them, the woman had meant those she loved this time. She always requests that, yet each time she comes back having loved different people.
In his mind, the guardian finds the memories he must put into the woman. Veronica Walters slowly becomes Margaret Pearson.)