A Way Home
Chapter 17 – The Manuscript
"The days come back and I am silent/ to the memories of my mind/ Colored panels on the windows of remembering/ grasping faintly at the shadows that mean everything/ Stained glass mirrors, dark and shattered/ Simple eloquence and elements are offering/ to the altar of my alter ego's empathy in this prison of nostalgia/ Wiping mud away from eyes that only I can see/ staring straight into the brilliance of reality/ present minded, plain and simple"
- Nostalgia, Greenwood
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When we stepped out of the carriage, I was surprised to see that we weren't back at home at all. It was a short building, but wide, and I could see that it was probably also a very old building.
"Where are we?" I asked, confused.
"The library!" Dominique exclaimed, and she ran past me to the front door with Charity right behind her. Together, they pushed open the library door and went in.
I climbed up the old stone steps with Erik close behind, followed by Henri and Philippe. When I opened the door, the first thing I noticed was the smell of old books. Since I had been ten years old, I had loved the smell of old books. I hadn't been much of a reader at the time, but the smell of the yellowed pages of old books always made me smile, and apparently still did. When I walked into the library, I was smiling a little, because the smell brought back memories of reading old and musty books borrowed from my mom's friend. They had been mystery books, much like the Nancy Drew books. I think they were called the Trixie Belden books, or something like that.
I gazed around the room, wondering how the ceiling could look so far up when the building was so small. Shelves crowded every wall, and they reached all the way up to the ceiling, with more shelves in the middle of the room. On one wall was a display case with the most incredible books on display. They had pictures in them that had been done using the ancient art of illumination, which was basically painting pictures with a very fine brush.
I put a hand gently on the glass that separated the pictures from me. "They're beautiful," I whispered, my breath fogging up the glass.
"Aren't they?" A female voice said from behind me, and I turned to see a young woman with brown skin and black hair smiling at me. She pushed her bottle-bottom glasses up onto her nose.
"Do I know you?" I asked, feeling as though her face was somewhat familiar.
The woman smiled at me. "Don't you recognize me, Rebecca?" She asked, her voice melodious and sweet, but in a good way. It wasn't syrupy sweet like some people's voices could be.
I paused for a moment, trying to recall where I might have seen her. Then it hit me. "Lynaea!" I exclaimed, and I embraced her.
"Actually, it Gabriella now," she corrected, laughing a little.
I looked at her with a confused expression on my face. "What?" I asked, puzzled.
She laughed again. "It's a long story," she said. "Maybe another time." Then she changed the subject. "So where exactly have you been?" She asked. "You look exactly the same as the last time I saw you, if I'm remembering correctly. Well," – here she lowered her voice and smiled in a bit of a conspiratorial way – "except for a little weight loss." She smiled.Then she repeated her earlier question. "Where have you been?"
"Long story," I replied, evading the question because I didn't want to get into it just then.
"I'd love to hear it sometime," she said.
Henri stepped in before I could answer. "Gabriella, dear," he began, "you had something for us. Hm?" He raised his eyebrows.
"Oh, yes!" She exclaimed, and she hurried across the room to where there sat a counter.
Gabriella went behind the counter and bent down, retrieving something from underneath it. When she came back up she was holding a bundle of papers wrapped in black leather. They seemed somewhat familiar. She set them on the countertop and slid them over to Erik, who had followed me to the counter.
"What is it?" I asked Erik as he picked it up.
"I don't believe it," he murmured. "This is my original Don Juan Triumphant musical score. I thought it was lost somewhere at Henri's house."
A faint memory, one I couldn't quite catch hold of, started to rise in my mind.
"I know," I heard Henri say. "When I finally realized that you weren't going to be coming home for a while, I had a friend drop it off with your daughters. When Charity went missing, Dominique left it here with Gabriella."
"But, we left the orphanage a long time ago," I heard Charity reply. "How did you find us?"
"That was me, actually," Philippe said, speaking up for the first time in a long time. "M. Henri asked me to keep an eye on you two so you wouldn't get hurt."
"You couldn't have prevented me from getting arrested?" Charity asked.
"I wasn't supposed to prevent you from getting arrested," he replied. "Just from any serious injury."
"Can I see that?" I asked, and Erik handed the manuscript to me.
I examined the front cover and saw that, in the top right-hand corner of the cover were the initials, A.O.M. I opened the front cover and saw the message on the inside that I had expected to see, the one that I remembered Erik writing there, so he could give it to Charity when she was older, as she already as a child had had the talent for music:
To my Darling Daughter, with all the love my heart contains, Daddy.
The blood was rushing in my ears, and Erik's voice sounded very far away.
"Rebecca?" Erik asked. I could see the concern on his face when he looked at me, but his words were muffled, as though by water. "Rebecca?"
My mind began to wander to a memory of mine from the distant future… one that I had already experienced, and would experience… one that was in another time and place… my high school, when I was just eighteen…
… As I reminisced about the good old days, before I had to worry about graduation, I chose a third book. I had already read two that day and couldn't wait to get my hands on another. I was searching through the shelves when I came across a book that didn't seem like it belonged…
"Why won't Rebecca answer me?" I heard Erik ask, his voice sounding frantic.
"I'm okay," I managed to get out before Erik wrapped his arms around me and held me so tight that I thought he'd never let go.
When he finally did release me, he and everyone else in the room wanted to know what had happened, and why I hadn't answered when they had called my name. I shushed them all and shook my head to clear it of all unnecessary thoughts.
"I'm not even sure what happened, myself," I said in reply to their questions. "But what I do know is this: I've seen that before."
"You mean…?" Erik let the question go unfinished, and he raised his eyebrows at me.
I nodded. I had already told him everything since I had first found the manuscript in my school library in the twenty-first century.
The only question left was, how was the manuscript going to end up in the twenty-first century, and in my school library during my senior year in high school? I shook my head. It was too many puzzles for one day. I needed a rest, and so did everyone else, so we all went home to Henri's to get something to eat and to get some rest. Except, of course, for Gabriella, who stayed in the library.
A/N: There's the next chapter. NOW there's only three left… I added one for good measure. It's kind of like a prologue, but not really, because to have a prologue, I think you need a prelude.