Prologue
The waves lapped upon the shore as Gram and I collected seashells. It was one of our favorite traditions to do by moonlight. With my small chubby fingers, I pulled up a perfectly intact shell.
"Look, Gram! It's beautiful," I called to her as she ambled her way toward me. She nodded and smiled. "It's going to be perfect for your collection, Jennie. You shouldn't let go of the perfect ones in life."
I shrugged and kept digging until my small seven-year-old fingers were frozen from the Maine coastal winds that bore down upon us. We eventually made our way back to the library and walked up the steps to the apartment where we lived. Gram's library was a sanctuary for me. My home now. Without her needing to tell me, I ran a bath and washed the sand from my body and hair. After I was done, I dressed myself in the warmest pajamas I could find. Gram sat at the table drinking tea and kissed me as I approached.
"You're growing so fast, Jennie. Your parents would be proud of you." I smiled, not sure how they'd know if I was doing well or not. I saw our shells drying on the counter, knowing they'd be dry and put away in our jars by the morning.
"Now off to bed with you," Gram told me as she playfully tugged my hair. I kissed her cheek and went to my room.
During the night, something woke me from a deep sleep. I sat up hearing whispered voices from somewhere outside my room. I padded across the floor, being careful not to wake Gram, and peeked outside my door. Nothing.
Opening my door wider didn't reveal the noise either. I grabbed my robe, knowing just where to look. I had to be fast or she'd catch me, so I swiftly went out the door of our apartment, down the stairs, and into the library. The noise got louder and revealed a man's voice.
As I got closer to the small room where Gram did her important paperwork, I saw a man standing with Gram. He was handsome and tall compared to my gray-haired, short Gram. She slumped into her chair and he remained standing.
"Well, what if I don't want that future for her? Do I not have any say in the matter?"
He rubbed his chin. His back was now facing me, and it was then that I noticed his peculiar type of attire. He wasn't wearing clothes that normal men wore; in fact I had never seen anyone wear pants like his. He looked like an explorer from one of my books with his pants tucked neatly inside of his boots.
"I'm afraid neither of us has a say; it's entirely up to Jennie. If she grows up and begins reading the books, then she will know whether or not she wants to do it. You mustn't hold her back from her legacy."
They were talking about me! I crouched down, hiding in the shadows, hoping to figure out what they were discussing. As it was, I was so confused.
"You can't make her protect them, Harold. She will have a choice. She's my granddaughter!" Gram was angry now, and no one wanted to be around her when she was like that.
Harold backed up a step and slowly took off his funny hat. "I know how you feel—"
Gram snorted. "No, you do not. I have lost my son and his wife. I will not lose her. It is too dangerous. She will have a different life than that."
"Your son didn't die because of the gift, Mavis. And you cannot travel. But it will go to her and you know it. Someday you will no longer be here, and she will have to protect your legacy."
She made another noise with her nose and said, "My legacy wasn't something I chose, thanks to you, Harold. I think you meant well, but you and I both know how dangerous this is. Traveling through time to protect history isn't something that—" She stopped abruptly and focused her eyes onto where I was currently crouched. "I think we have company."
I froze. She could see me. I wasn't as hidden as I thought I was. And Gram was always good at seeing me when I thought I was being sneaky.
"Jennie, come here."
With wobbly legs I walked into my Gram's forbidden office, and Harold never turned around to meet my gaze. Instead, he stood still and faced only Gram.
"What have I told you about sneaking around at night?" Gram asked sternly.
"Umm…not to," I said shakily, almost in tears.
"Now get your tushy back upstairs and into bed." I did as she said, never once looking at the man in the eyes.
As I walked back to my room, my brain tried hard to figure out what they were speaking about. Traveling through time? Legacy? It was confusing for a seven-year-old to know what those words meant. I would ask her about it in the morning. If I didn't have the nerve to do that, then I would look it up in the library.
But as I felt sleep pull me back under, I had already forgotten the whole conversation and the words in which I was to learn.
