A/N – "I'm going to update on time." Then life happens. I'm 100% glad this eclipse madness is over. Do you know what it's like to have thousands of people divulge on your two-lane highway when you're also trying to drive home? It's a headache and a half. But, hey, Wednesday is just as cool as Monday. (That's what we say so Monday won't feel bad about itself because no one likes him.)

Also, as always, thank you so much for enjoying this story! You're all awesome!

X

Chapter 11

Hiccup drank his coffee in anticipation, but nothing happened. He finished his first cup without going through time, poured his second, and got halfway through it before anything paranormal happened that morning. Astrid walked into the office, dazzlingly realistic in the overcast light.

The weatherman on Hiccup's phone called for a stormy afternoon and a rainy night. So far, he'd been accurate.

"I went to the library yesterday," Hiccup told her. "I was looking up information on Eret."

He'd gotten her attention.

"Was his last name Walker?"

She nodded.

Hiccup pretended to flip through his notes. He knew what he was going to tell her about him, but he wasn't sure how she'd react. He wasn't sure how much, or what, she'd felt toward him. Even the idea that she might have felt something toward him rekindled that sense of jealousy.

"Do you want to know what happened to him?"

She hesitated, then she walked over to the chair in the corner. She sat, braced herself, and nodded.

"He married two years after your death," Hiccup said.

Astrid looked to the ground and nodded.

"To a Charlotte Mays. Does that name sound familiar?"

Astrid shook her head.

"Are you okay?" Hiccup asked tentatively. He remembered that old saying about a woman scorned. "I mean, does this bother you? That he married?"

She shook her head, then looked at him as if to ask, why would it?

Hiccup cleared his throat. "I, uh, saw you and him say goodbye when he left the house. Your father got him a job in town. He promised to write."

Astrid gave him a look of understanding. She stood suddenly and walked to the stairs. She paused at the bottom and motioned for him to follow.

Hiccup stood and did as she asked. She led him to her bedroom. Hiccup watched in awe as her phantom fingers curled around the doorknob and opened the door. She walked inside and he followed. It felt a bit stuffy inside, because Hiccup didn't open her window when he opened the rest.

Astrid walked to her closet door and pointed inside. She ducked and crawled inside the dark space. Hiccup bent down to see what she was doing. In the stormy daylight, he saw her poke at one of the narrow panels of the closet's wall. She jabbed at it enough that it came a bit lose.

"Oh? The old loose floorboard, eh?" Hiccup said.

Astrid leaned back out and glanced at him, shaking her head. She motioned to the panels.

"I know," Hiccup said. "It's just the 'loose floorboard under the bed' is a cliché in mysteries these days."

She motioned again to the panel.

"Do you want me to open it?"

She nodded.

Hiccup leaned in farther and ended up on his elbows. He pushed the panel in; the bottom came out. Inside the panel he spotted something that didn't belong. He reached in, fully expecting spiders to lunge at his invading limb, but none did. He pulled out a small wooden box.

Astrid motioned for him to open it.

Old box hidden in a closet in a haunted house… yeah, that didn't come with any sort of misgivings. None at all.

Even though horror movies had taught him not to, his paranormal instincts told him to go ahead. Taking a deep breath, he opened it. Inside were letters. Dozens of letters, all addressed to Astrid. Hiccup opened the top letter; it was from Eret. Dated April of 1875.

"These are the letters he sent you," Hiccup said.

Astrid nodded.

"Can I… and I understand entirely if you say no, but can I read them?"

She nodded.

"Are you sure? I know these are personal, but they might hold some kind of a clue."

She nodded again and shooed him toward the door. Hiccup took the box of letters down into the kitchen and set the box on the table. He opened the first letter and began to read. As he started on the third letter, the first clap of thunder sounded outside. Lightning flashed, but Hiccup didn't notice.

In his letters, Eret talks about his new job at the railroad. There's a lot of lifting, he says, mostly brainless work, but the boss has already taken a liking to him, or he thinks. He talks about his coworkers, the people that come and go on the train, his new landlord, his strange neighbors.

The letters range from 1875 to 1880; as Eret and Astrid grow older, the letters mature, too. Eret mentions that a lot of his coworkers are married and how nice they make it sound to come home to a wife. He's gotten a promotion; he's moved out of the apartment and into a small house in town.

It is one letter in particular, from March of 1880, that gets Hiccup's attention. Eret mentions his concern about 'the other man.' Astrid had mentioned him in her letters to him, it seemed, and it made Eret worried. It made Hiccup worry, too.

I'm worried about you, Astrid. This 'other man' you talk about is a strange thing. Any apparition is a dangerous one. I hate to suggest it, but maybe your house is haunted. It wouldn't the first and surely won't be the last. Think of how many soldiers died in your house during the war. It wouldn't be uncommon for one of those men to be lingering.

But, ghosts aren't to be messed with, love. They're dangerous, sinful beings. Communing with them is communing with demons. Stay away from that man lest you invite evil into your home. Unless, you've really met another man? I know a family moved in not but a short walk from your door. Should we marry sooner? I hate the thought of someone else trying to sway you, especially without me there to ward him off.

On a sweeter note, is your father doing all right? He seemed a bit distracted the last time he was in town. A bit grayer, too. I do hope you're not stressing the poor man out, Astrid. He's had a rough life of his own.

Time's up, I must return to my duties.

With love,

Eret Walker

There were no more letters.

March of 1880…Astrid had died in 1880, but the exact date eluded him.

But, it wasn't what bothered him the most about the letter. There was another man in Astrid's life? Ghosts…Eret thought Astrid lived in a haunted house?

Then it smacked into him.

"Me," Hiccup said aloud. Eret had been talking about another man, a ghostly man, that Astrid talked about – she'd been talking about him. There were no other Civil War ghosts in the house.

He felt another sprig of panic rising in his chest. Had he been the cause of Astrid and Eret's relationship falling apart? If not for him, would they have married? Would she have lived a happy life in town with him? Would she have died peacefully?

God, how much had he screwed up this poor girl's life without meaning to?

Hiccup packed the letters back into the box, carefully, as to not damage the old paper, and stood to return the box to Astrid's room; he made it to the foyer. The house shifted. The storm outside vanished, and the world glowed bright with a sunny afternoon. Hiccup sighed. It shouldn't surprise him, but it did. Each crossing felt like waking up from a vivid dream.

Hiccup was still holding the box.

…if he brought the box up to Astrid's room, would he find a similar box in its place? If they touched, would reality ceased to exist?

Better not take the chance.

Instead, he made to turn into the office, when he heard…sounds. Pleasurable sounds. Hiccup froze, embarrassment flooding him. Someone, two of them, were currently in the midst of a passionate afternoon meeting. Hiccup walked back into the sitting room. He'd rather not hear that. Unfortunately, the couple upstairs weren't trying to be quiet at all. Hiccup pushed out some of the sound by talking to himself, humming, and plugging his fingers with his ears.

As he sat there, trying his best to ignore the romantic interlude, a thought struck him. His jealous-prone mind threw two faces into the sounds; his mind, despite his efforts, pixelated the image for him, of Eret and Astrid. His skin felt like melting wax. His tongue felt like a lead weight. His stomach fell into his ankles.

No, it wouldn't necessarily be them; it very possibly, and most likely, could have been Randal and Ingrid. It had been coming from their bedroom, and they were married. Obvious. Hiccup felt stupid for thinking otherwise.

Finally, the sounds stopped. The two upstairs were talking lowly, giggling, and all the nonsense things that lovesick puppies would do. The door to the master bedroom opened and closed and another down the hall opened.

Hiccup stayed put where he was, just in case his logic failed him.

A carriage trotted down the drive, and Hiccup turned in his seat to see who'd come. His heart sank a bit. Out of the carriage came Astrid and her father, Randal Hofferson.

Hiccup glanced up the stairs, but he didn't see anyone.

It dawned on him. "Oh…"

The front door to the house opened, and Randal walked in first, followed by Astrid. Hiccup ducked out of Astrid's sight. He didn't want her to find another strange occurrence with a 'ghost' in her house.

"We're back," Randal called to the house.

"I'm upstairs, dear," called his wife, Ingrid.

"Took you long enough," Jacob said, walking down the second floor hallway from the opposite direction of the master bedroom. "Did you have trouble along the way? Loose a wheel?"

Hiccup watched as the two brothers hugged. Jacob walked into the kitchen and out the backdoor while Randal walked upstairs. Astrid meandered up the stairs as well. She held a new book in her hands, but he couldn't read the title as she walked by.

Hiccup waited for some explosive confrontation, evidence of adultery, but none came. Mrs. Hofferson walked out of the master bedroom and a few moments later her husband followed, talking about dumplings. Apparently, the restaurant in town couldn't cook near as well as Mrs. Hofferson.

Hiccup still stood as Randal went out to pay the driver of the carriage. Hiccup wasn't paying attention as Astrid came back down the stairs, book in hand, until he heard the book slap onto the stairs. He jumped and spun. She stood on the second to top stair. The book lay on the fourth to top stair. Her gaze pierced Hiccup, and slowly her eyes shifted to the box he held in his hands.

She paled.

"That's my…" she said.

Her father came back inside. "That's your what, dear?"

"Nothing," Astrid said.

"You look a bit white," he said. "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head. "No…I just…felt dizzy all of a sudden."

"Go lie down before you fall," he said.

Astrid bent down and picked up her book, then retreated into her bedroom.

Hiccup, heart thumping madly, meandered into the kitchen. Mrs. Hofferson, humming, had started to make dinner.

Hiccup's grip tightened on the box. He had a very foul view of cheaters. He'd felt fond of Mrs. Hofferson and in less than an afternoon, he loathed her.

"Everything alright, dear?" asked Randal as he walked into the kitchen.

"Yes, of course, love," Mrs. Hofferson said.

"Jacob wasn't too much trouble, I hope."

At those words, she paused. She turned to him with a confused glance. "Of course not, why would he be?"

"Oh, he can be a nuisance when he wants," Randal said. "Like a fly in your ear or a sweat bee."

Hiccup tensed at the tone, at the look, at the suspicion; Randal knew.

Before Hiccup could hear the rest, he stood in his own kitchen. Rain hammered the windows. Lightning flashed, brightening the bending trees as the wind howled. Thunder barked and tore at the sky.

"It's getting bad out there," Fishlegs said absently. He sat at the kitchen table with a sandwich in front of him.

"What? Yeah, it is," Hiccup said.

"Oh, are you back?"

"I think so."

"Good," Fishlegs said. "What's in that box? You've had it in a death grip for like twenty minutes."

"It's letters," he said. "From Eret to Astrid."

Fishlegs's eyes lit up. "Really? Can I read them?"

"I-I don't know," Hiccup said. He held the box tighter. "They're not really mine to give you permission."

"Oh, right, that makes sense," Fishlegs said.

"But, I did just find out something important," Hiccup said. He looked around to see if Astrid was in the room. She wasn't. He whispered, "Mrs. Hofferson was sleeping with her husband's brother."

"What?" Fishlegs asked. "But…wait…he was married, right?"

"Yeah, I think so," Hiccup nodded. "Let me get my notes."

Hiccup put the box down in his office and retrieved his notes. He returned to the kitchen. He flipped to the dates and names.

"Yeah, he was, to… Karla Hofferson. She died in 1853. Miscarriage."

"So…if she died in 1853…who's not to say that this affair didn't start then?" Fishlegs said. "I mean, I hate to be the one to suggest something like that, but it's possible."

"Yeah," Hiccup said absently.

"What's up?"

"I hadn't looked at my notes in a while," Hiccup said. "I'd forgotten. Randal and Ingrid had another son, Robert, in 1859. He'd be four years younger than Astrid."

"Yeah, what about him?"

"I've never seen him," Hiccup said. He flipped through his notes. "I-I'd forgotten…Robert Hofferson died in 1865. He would have been six."

"That's young," Fishlegs asked.

"But…where was he?" Hiccup asked. "I've not seen him at all."

"How much of that time period did you see? It's possible he was there, but sick or something," Fishlegs suggested. "You know, I did get a weird feeling for that room beside the parlor upstairs. That might have been his room. Does it say how he died?"

Hiccup read on. "The cause was unknown. And later, Jacob died in 1870, supposedly in his sleep, cause unknown."

"Okay," Fishlegs said. "People died for a lot of strange reasons, most of which are totally normal today, but back then they didn't understand liver failure or appendicitis or cancer."

"It's just… I don't know. The more information I get, the more confusing it all seems. But, I guess, that shows that I'm going back before 1870 if Jacob is still alive."

"See? A silver lining."

Hiccup stared through his notes for a while longer in his study. He felt like he was missing something, but he felt like it was staring him straight in the face.

His concentration was interrupted only when Astrid appeared in the door.

"Hey," Hiccup said casually. "I've been meaning to return your box, but I've been distracted."

She nodded.

"I've got a strange, possibly personal question for you," he said. "Feel free not to answer. But…did you know, or suspect, at any time, that your mother might not have been completely…faithful to your father?"

Astrid didn't look angry or offended. Instead, she nodded.

"Did you know she was sleeping with your uncle Jacob?"

She nodded grimly. She pointed to herself, held out both of her hands as if weighing something, and then shrugged.

"It was going on for a while, wasn't it?"

She nodded.

"You think that…maybe… Jacob could be your father?"

She nodded.

"Whoa," Hiccup said. He slouched in his chair. "One's your father and one's your uncle, but you don't know which is which. That's rough."

Astrid shrugged, implying that it didn't really matter.

"They're still family either way, right?"

She nodded.

"But…did your father ever find out?"

Astrid fidgeted with the skirt that hung between her knees. After a moment, she nodded.

"I bet he wasn't happy."

She shook her head, no.

"Did they fight?"

Yes.