Author's Note: Don't worry, I promise we'll be getting back to the adventures of our heroes in the next chapter. :P

Chapter 4

For a moment, Laila just stood there, staring as the woman walked away. Oh—she shouldn't have even tried. She shouldn't have tried to explain the insanity that had been today to—to a total stranger. And now if she really tried to explain—if she tried to make it up to her—she would end up babbling hopelessly about time travel and Falling Star Lane and—and Allison would think she was crazy. She probably already did. And a liar, too.

She rested her hand on the cool, rough granite of the gravestone with a sigh.

Her gravestone.

"Allison?" Her voice sounded small in the expanse of the cemetery. "Allison, I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

The woman came to a stop, slowly, and turned back. The fire in her eyes had died, replaced with shame and a bit of sadness. "I'm sorry—it wasn't you." Her shoulders drooped a bit, and she stared hard at her feet. "It's just—my brother—he's been odd, lately. I don't know—ever since his wife disappeared, it's like—he's seemed—darker, almost. I know that sounds—overdramatic—or something, but it's the only way I can explain it. He hasn't texted me in ages and the last time I tried to call him he proceeded to tell me he was in the middle of something very important and hung up on me. I don't know what's…." Her voice trailed off. "Uh, sorry. I hardly know you and I'm dumping my personal issues on you. Sorry." She turned away, then hesitated. "Look. I can't just leave you standing in the graveyard and wondering. And you—I don't know how, but you seem to know something. I'm going to go peek into my brother's attic. Come with me?"

Laila sighed. She didn't want to go back there, didn't want to see those bodies again, still as death. But—well—she didn't want to stand here in the graveyard either. And—

She didn't want to lose the chance to get to know her great-niece. It was so strange, and she couldn't even wrap her mind around it. But she knew that someday, she would regret letting her walk away. So she managed a little smile.

"Sure. I'll come," she said, turning away from the gravestone. A sudden and rather devilish urge took hold of her, and she reached down, picked up a flower, and stuck it in her hair.

They were for her, after all.

The cemetery was dappled with mid-afternoon shadows and a peaceful silence settled around them as they made their way between the gravestones. How often had she wandered through here, wondering about the lives of those who now lay in their final resting place? And now…..she shivered at the thought. Her body….

They came to the edge of the cemetery and stepped into a little parking lot. Laila looked around, blinking. This hadn't been here when she lived here. The park had been a nice little haven in the middle of the town, and no one drove there. Allison came to a stop in front of a car and pulled something—keys?—out of her pocket. Laila peered at the odd little device—a key, obviously, but—well, Allison was stepping into the car and starting it now, and she supposed she should follow and not just stand here staring like an idiot.

She found herself grinning a little as she stepped inside. Finally she got to see the inside of one of these things!

She slid into the seat beside Allison and closed the door beside her, looking around, trying to take in every detail. It was all so—well, she didn't even know how to describe it. She bounced up and down in the seat and ran her finger down the inside of the door—but what caught her attention, and held it, was the dashboard in front of her. It was filled with strange little buttons and dials and none of them made any sense. She reached forward, her finger hovering over a button. Was it something like she had seen in the post office, some kind of strange new technology that she didn't even know the use for? She touched the button, then pressed it.

Music blared through the car.

She started and drew her hand back, staring wide-eyed at the dashboard. "S—sorry—" She flushed a little and shot a quick glance at Allison. The woman must think she was a total idiot. "I, uh…." Did she press the button again, or would it do something strange?

"Oh, you can change the channel if you'd like." Allison looked over at her, and Laila could feel her staring. "Seatbelt?"

She blinked. Seatbelt? She looked carefully at Allison and saw that she had drawn what she supposed was the seatbelt across her and clicked it in place—alright then. She fumbled around behind her seat until she found it, trying not to look as if she had no idea what she was doing. She hesitated. It hooked in somewhere, right? Cars didn't have these things where—when —she came from. It seemed like a terrible nuisance to her, but she supposed Allison had a reason. Her hand found a small plastic square at her side and she shot another quick glance at Allison before clicking it in place.

She was rather proud of herself.

For a long moment they just rode along in the car, Laila staring out the window, and then turning and staring back at the dashboard. Had Allison said change the channel? Was this a radio? She reached forward carefully, and pressed the button again.

The music stopped.

She folded her hands in her lap and stared at them for a long moment. The ring sparkled on her finger. Rob….

She cleared her throat. "So, um. You've—uh—done some…research? On the Wood family I mean."

"Just a little," Allison said. "Lately I've been looking into it some more. Ever since Aunt Laila passed away, really. She was the last of her generation and I sort of felt like it was my job to carry on the family, you know?" She smiled a little. "I always liked Aunt Laila. She—she sort of fascinated me. She was an author, you know."

Laila looked up suddenly. "She was?"

"Oh, yes. I have all her books." Allison stared at the road ahead, a little dreamily. "I can't quite shake the feeling that there's always been a bit of a mystery about her. The way she looked at me….I've been reading her journal, lately. I found it and her letters in the little attic—the one that was always her room." Her face clouded over. "The one that Edward—never mind. I found it hidden in a little corner a while ago, and—what?"

Laila stared at her, her cheeks hot. "You—have been reading—my—her journal." Allison had read her journal. All her odd little fancies that she'd scribbled down in the middle of the night. All her childish dreams. All her silly scribbles about Rob. Allison knew everything.

Suddenly she felt as if her soul had been laid bare.

And her letters…..

"Her letters?" she blurted out. "You found her letters, too?"

Allison nodded. "Yeah—they were mostly letters to her fiancé. She kept them all bundled up in that little attic, and a locket with his picture. I thought it was….rather romantic, really." Her cheeks reddened and for a moment she looked almost like a dreamy little girl. "That she never remarried, always carried a picture of him around with her. And one of her books…." A smile touched her lips. "The dedication. To my love, who died a hero's death."

A hero's death….

"And he insisted on being buried under her favorite tree. Well, we're here." She pulled the car to a stop in front of the house, and turned the key. The engine puttered to a stop and she stepped out.

Laila followed dully. She was glad of the interruption. And yet—she wanted to know more, somehow. As if one little glimpse into the future had created a craving to know everything.

She didn't realize she had followed Allison all the way to the base of the ladder until she skidded to a stop and Laila nearly ran into her. She looked up, and closed her eyes for a moment. She didn't want to go back there. She didn't want to see—

But Allison had started up the ladder, and as if drawn against her will, Laila followed.

Once again, something flashed through her mind, as she watched Allison climb the ladder in front of her. Something—odd. Something familiar. Something that tickled at the back of her mind….

And then Allison skidded to a stop, and the feeling dissipated in an instant. All the color drained from her face and she let out a little cry—and then she was running forward, dropping to her knees beside the woman at the far end. She pushed a lock of thick brown hair out of her pale face, her eyes dull with shock. Laila rushed to her side.

"Allison…."

"It's Joylynn." Allison's voice was soft, and it sounded as if all the color had drained from it, too. "His wife…."