Once Found: The Pocket Watch Chronicles (12 page)

Although a twelve-hour shift was supposed to be seven to seven, Gabe rarely finished before eight or later. He arrived home at a quarter to nine that evening to find Elizabeth sitting at the table, doing pages in her workbook. He kissed her. “I missed you today.”

“I missed you too.”

“How did you spend your day?”

“I worked in this book a lot this morning, but I had a visitor this afternoon.”

Gabe was instantly wary. “A visitor? You let someone in?”

“Yes. It was David’s father, Aldous Sinclair.”

“Why on earth would David’s father visit you?”

“It seems that many years ago, David’s mother had a serious head injury and suffered permanent amnesia.”

“Why didn’t David mention that?”

“I think it was so long ago—when his parents were still in college—it wasn’t really something they talked about much. And even then, their children didn’t fully understand the extent of it. He said memories sort of get filled in. People tell you so many of the important things that it feels like a memory eventually.”

“I guess I understand that. But why did he come instead of David’s mother?”

“He’s…cautious. He wanted to talk to me first. If it is alright with you, he is going to bring her to visit tomorrow.”

“That’s fine. It’s a good idea actually, talking to someone who has experienced what you’re going through.”

“I’m glad you agree. How was your day?”

“Busy. I’m tired. I’m going to take a forty-five minute power nap and then a quick shower.”

“If you’re tired, why not just shower and go to bed for the night?”

“I would, but tomorrow’s Sunday. I missed Mass last week because of the snowstorm and I can’t go to a regular Mass working seven am to seven pm tomorrow. But there is one church in the city, St. Malachy’s, which has a very late Mass on Saturday nights. I usually go there on the weeks I work days.”

“I can’t imagine many people go that late to Mass.”

“Actually, there are quite a few. The church is in the theatre district. It’s also called the Actors’ Chapel. Mass is late so that performers and theatre patrons can go after shows are over.”

“Can I go with you?”

“To Mass? This late?”

“You’re going.”

“Yes, but you aren’t even Catholic.”

“What do you mean? If I’m not Catholic, what am I?” She looked horrified.

“You’re Episcopal, but you didn’t practice much of anything when we were in med school.”

“What’s
Episcopal
?”

“It’s a Protestant religion.”

“No,” she said vehemently. “I’m Christian. I know I am.”

“Sweetheart, Protestants are Christians, too.” This was another odd hole in her semantic memory. “It’s just…well, it’s really kind of a long story—too long for me to explain now. I would love for you to come to Mass with me if that’s what you want.”

She nodded, but her brows were drawn together.

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll like St. Malachy’s.” He kissed her before heading to bed.

Gabe was too tired to think much more about it, but the power nap and shower revived him sufficiently. Normally, he would have taken the subway, but he wasn’t sure Elizabeth was up to that this late on a Saturday night, so he hailed a cab.

Elizabeth was enchanted by the gothic revival church, dwarfed by the high-rise buildings surrounding it. Upon entering the church, she seemed to be a little surprised.

“Is something wrong?” Gabe whispered.

She shook her head. “No, it just isn’t quite what I expected.”

He guided her into a pew. She didn’t genuflect on entering the pew and glanced curiously at him when he did. Her insistence that she was Catholic confused him. Maybe she had become Catholic in the last few years. He guessed that she might remember her new faith and still have forgotten some of the rubrics.

He lowered the kneeler, and Elizabeth knelt to pray beside him. But what she did next absolutely floored him.

She made the sign of the cross and whispered, “
In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen
.” Then she continued her whispered Latin prayers with the Our Father.

Pater noster qui es en caelis sanctificetur nomen tuum adveniat regnum tuum fiat voluntas tua sicut in caelo et in terra panem nostrun quotidianem da nobis hodie et dimmitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimmitimus debitoribus nostris et ne nos inducas in tentationem sed libera nos a malo. Amen.

And she ended with the Hail Mary.

Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum. Benedicta tu in mulieribus, et benedictus fructus ventris tui. Sancta Maria, Mater Domini nostri, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen.

Gabe was nearly too stunned to say his own prayers. She can’t read, she didn’t remember being Protestant, and yet she prayed in Latin. Maybe she became Catholic and worshipped at a church that offered a Latin Mass. Honestly, it was the kind of thing the girl genius would do. He could almost hear her saying that if one was going to switch religions, one may as well learn another language at the same time. He thought he would ask her about it after Mass, but changed his mind. There was no getting around it: the things she remembered and didn’t remember were bizarre, and pointing them out often distressed her. This was confirmed by the fact that she became confused at several points during the Mass, and it flustered her. It was better to just let it drop.

In the cab on the way home, Gabe put his arm around Elsie and she snuggled against him, resting her head on his shoulder. This felt so right. It was even better than it had been in medical school. The idea that this could be his future, his forever, filled him with warmth. He kissed the top of her head and she sighed.

“How are your ribs feeling?”

“They hurt a little tonight.”

He frowned. He had ensured that she iced them several times a day and took a nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory whether she had pain or not. “Did you use ice and take the medicine I gave you?”

“I did in the morning, but I forgot to while Mr. Sinclair was visiting.”

“And you didn’t take the medicine and use ice after he left?”

“No. I didn’t think about it because I wasn’t very uncomfortable.”

“Elizabeth, you weren’t uncomfortable because you had been icing and taking the medicine regularly to keep the pain away. It takes four to six weeks for broken ribs to heal, and they can be quite painful for a while.”

“It isn’t bad. I can stand it.”

“That isn’t the point. When your ribs hurt, you move less, and you breathe less deeply. Those two things can result in other illnesses developing. Also, if you are already in pain, it may take stronger medicine to relieve the pain. And you don’t like the way that medicine makes you feel.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

“I know, and I should have explained it better. We’ll take care of it when we get home. You should feel better by morning, and tomorrow you can get back on a schedule again. But if you are still hurting by noon, I want you to call me.”

“I will.”

“I mean it, Elizabeth. Even if the Sinclairs are visiting, you need to do it. They’ll understand.”

“I will. I promise.”

“Speaking of the Sinclairs, your social schedule is filling up. They’ll be here tomorrow, you and Dr. Rose are meeting your mother for lunch Monday, and you have your regular appointment with Dr. Rose on Wednesday.”

She laughed, looking up at him. “Three appointments in otherwise empty days is hardly a full schedule.”

“Well, just in case you get any more invitations, I want you to keep Saturday free for me.”

“I won’t schedule anything on a day you are off without checking with you. What are we doing on Saturday?”

“It’s a surprise. I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m certain I will.”

Again, Elsie woke early the next morning when Gabe rose for work. Although he told her to go back to sleep, and she tried, she simply couldn’t. She was too excited at the prospect of being with her mother again—something she never dreamed would be possible this side of heaven. Still, it wasn’t daylight yet, and it would likely be hours before the Sinclairs arrived.

She got up and decided to take a shower. Gabe had said she could get the cast a little wet, but it might be more comfortable if she didn’t. He had wrapped it in
plastic wrap
when she had showered earlier in the week. She found the box containing the thin, clear film and tried to do the same thing. It wasn’t nearly as easy by herself with one hand, but she managed.

By the time she had washed and dressed, the sun was up—barely. She remembered what Gabe had said about applying ice to her ribs and taking the pain medicine, so she did that and ate a little breakfast.

Elsie had to find something to occupy her time, or she would go mad with waiting.

She tried doing pages in her workbooks, but couldn’t focus. Watching television didn’t hold her attention either. Elsie had such wonderful memories of her mother. For years after her mother died, when Elsie longed for her so badly it hurt, she would close her eyes and relive a memory. Nothing extraordinary, for those only made her more keenly aware of her loss. She would relive something simple, like tidying the cottage or preparing a meal.

That was it: Elsie would try to cook something. It would keep her busy, and she’d have something to serve her parents for the midday meal. She searched Gabe’s kitchen for something she recognized. She found several cans that, based on the pictures, contained small, white beans. He had showed her how a
can opener
worked when he opened a tin of ground coffee. She found carrots, celery, and onion in the refrigerator.

It wasn’t easy with one arm in a cast, but she chopped the vegetables, put them in a big pot with some butter, and put it on one of the stove’s
eyes
. She turned it on and stirred the contents until the onion was soft. She added water until the pot was about half full. She opened the cans of beans, but when she saw them, she wrinkled her nose. They were covered with a slimy liquid. She gave them a sniff. They didn’t smell bad, so she tasted one. It tasted fine.
They must eat them this way
. She shrugged and dumped them in the pot. She found the salt and pepper—it still amazed her that salt was no longer valuable—and added some of each to the pot. She found some other small jars, some of which looked as if they contained dried herbs. She opened them, sniffing each jar to identify its contents. She added thyme and rosemary. She also added a white powder that she couldn’t identify, but it smelled savory.

She would have liked a nice, meaty joint to flavor the soup with, but found nothing like that. She did, however, find a couple of cans of something that had a picture of a bowl filled with clear broth on the label. She opened one, sniffed it, and smiled. It was chicken broth. She added both cans to her pot.

She wasn’t sure what to do when the pot began to boil. At home, she would swing the pot to the side of the fire where there was less heat, and allow it to cook slowly for several hours. The dial controlling the eye had numbers on it. She turned it to “1” and watched to see what happened. Initially, it seemed as if it didn’t make a difference, but the boiling slowed to a low simmer after a minute or so. She smiled.
That will work
.

Feeling pretty chuffed about her pot of soup, she decided to try one more thing. One of her mother’s favorite things had been a pudding made of apples and raisins. There were apples in a bowl on the counter, and she had seen a box with a picture of raisins on the label in one of the cabinets. She needed milk, honey, and flour, all of which she had seen.

She peeled and sliced four apples, put them in another pot with a few handfuls of raisins, and added water. She cooked them just until the apples were tender and then drained the water off and mashed the fruit. She added milk and honey. She had found ginger and cinnamon in her search for seasoning for her soup, so she sprinkled in some of each. The last ingredient was the flour. She made a paste with a little bit of milk before mixing it in. Then she cooked it, stirring constantly until it became thick. She sat it on a cold eye to cool. Her mother would have put it on the window sill.
But she didn’t have a refrigerator
. Elsie smiled. When the pudding had cooled a little, Elsie put it there to chill.

By nine o’clock, everything was done and the apartment smelled delicious. The buzzer for the front door sounded at half past nine, and Elsie ran to answer it. “Hello?”

“Good morning, Elsie, it’s Aldous Sinclair.”

“Good morning.” She hit the button that unlocked the door. “Come in.”

She could barely stand the brief wait while they rode the elevator. She wanted to meet them there, but she knew the door would lock behind her if she left the apartment. By the time she found the key to take with her, they would be here and she wouldn’t need it.

Within a minute or so, a knock sounded at the door. She opened it. Maybe it was because she knew it really was her mother, but she had nearly the same intense feeling she’d experienced when she first saw Gabe. It was as if her soul recognized her mother’s in spite of her outward appearance.

Elsie threw her arms around Jo Sinclair, so full of joy she could scarcely contain it. “Mama, it’s you.”

Her mother, eyes bright with tears, returned her embrace. “Oh, my sweet girl. You are so deeply embedded in my heart, I would have known you anywhere.”

“Let’s take this inside, ladies,” said Aldous.

Too late, Elsie realized this had played out in the open doorway. She glanced around quickly, but saw no signs of a guard.

Her father chuckled. “I thought there would be no containing either of you, so I suggested that Dixon could keep an eye on things from outside the building. But still, it is better to keep from prying eyes.”

Elsie ushered them in, shutting and locking the door behind them.

Aldous took a deep breath in through his nose. “Something smells wonderful.”

“I made a pot of soup for our midday meal.” Elsie felt suddenly shy. She remembered that it had been many years since either of them had been in the thirteenth century, and they were wealthy. They were probably accustomed to finer fare. “You don’t have to eat it if you’d rather not.”

“Nonsense,” said her mother. “It is a perfect day for soup. In fact, if you have the ingredients, I can show you how we make bannock now. Is the kitchen this way? We can talk while we work.”

At this, Elsie burst into tears.

Jo Sinclair gathered Elsie into her arms. “Sweetling, don’t cry. What’s wrong?”

Elsie clung to her mother. Between sobs she said, “Nothing…I’ve just…I’ve just missed you…so very much. And this…just being with you and doing ordinary things…is what I’ve missed the most.”

“Well then,” said her mother as she stroked Elsie’s hair, “we shall have to do a lot of ordinary things together.”

When Elsie had regained her composure, she showed her mother into Gabe’s kitchen. “I don’t know if he’ll have what you need.”

“It doesn’t take much. Turn the oven on first so it heats up. I’ll show you how to make a kind of bannock they call soda bread. I’d normally use a whole grain wheat flour, but this white flour will do.” She looked through the cabinets and found a bottle with a brown liquid in it and a yellow box. “Vinegar and baking soda, perfect. Is there plenty of milk?”

Elsie pulled the plastic jug from the refrigerator. “It’s half full.”

“That will be enough, but if Gabe is anything like my sons, he uses a lot of milk.” She called into the front room where Aldous had turned on the Olympics. “Aldous, dear, have Dixon send someone to the store for milk. I don’t want to leave an empty jug.”

He chuckled in response. “Certainly, Jo. But perhaps I should wait until you are done to make sure there is nothing else.”

“Suit yourself.”

Her mother showed Elsie how baking soda reacted to vinegar. “See how it foams up? That makes the bannock lighter.” She added some vinegar to the milk, causing it to curdle. She stirred baking soda and salt into the flour. “Add the sour milk to the flour all at once. Then, work fast. You don’t want to overwork your dough.”

As they finished making the bread, her mother asked questions about clan members, told Elsie about her other children, and just chatted as mothers and daughters do.

That is how Elsie spent the rest of the day: talking with her parents, learning about their life, and telling them about hers. Along the way, she learned so much more about modern life and the world. They answered every question and explained things she didn’t comprehend. Her father had a
laptop
with him. He could pull up images of anything imaginable to help her understand everything from airplanes to the bottom of the ocean. She saw images of Scotland taken from a
satellite
.

He pointed to the area where their clan had lived, but it was empty. Nearly all of the Highlands were deserted. “What happened?”

“That, my darling, is a very long, sad story. It won’t happen in your lifetime and since you intend to go back, it might not be something you want to know about.”

She nodded. “I suppose not.”

At their midday meal, her mother had been delighted with the apple and raisin pudding. “I haven’t had one in years.”

The afternoon slipped into evening. Her parents insisted on taking her out to dinner.

“Gabe left you with a cell phone number, did he not? And he knew we were coming?” asked her father.

“Yes.”

“Then you can call him to let him know where we’ll be. You’ll likely be home before he is anyway.”

Truthfully, she didn’t want the evening to end, and she could only serve them soup again. Besides, she would be eating in a restaurant tomorrow with Elizabeth’s mother and Dr. Rose, so she wanted to know what to expect. “Okay. I’d like to go with you.”

When she dialed Gabe’s number, she heard his voice say, “This is Gabe, leave a message.”

He had taught her how to do that, so after the beep she said, “Um…the Sinclairs are…um…taking me out to dinner. And…well…they don’t expect we’ll be out long. So…uh…I’ll see you later…uh…when you get home.”

When she hung up, she realized her parents were grinning at her.

She blushed. “How long before things like this stop feeling so bizarre?”

Her mother laughed. “Months, even years. But I fell in love with some things right away. Like—”

“—the bathroom,” they both said in unison before bursting into laughter.

Amused, Aldous shook his head. “Come, ladies. Dixon and Jake have brought the car around.”

~ * ~

Gabe had been surprised to get the message that Elizabeth was going out to dinner with the Sinclairs, but when he returned home that evening and they were still there, he wasn’t sure quite what to make of it.

Elizabeth introduced them, and they exchanged small talk for a few minutes. She seemed perfectly at ease with them, which was nice to see.

Soon, Aldous said, “Well, I know you’re probably tired and have to work again tomorrow, so we’ll be going. Elizabeth, I know you said you were meeting your mother with Dr. Rose tomorrow. Would you like to spend the day with Jo on Tuesday? I can send a car for you.”

“I’d like that a lot. You don’t mind do you, Gabe?”

“No, of course not.” But he didn’t quite understand why.

As if reading his confused expression, Jo Sinclair said, “When you lose your memory, it is easy to feel, unmoored, out of step. Sometimes, just having someone around who understands and can help a little is comforting.”

“I’m sure it is, and thank you so much for helping Elizabeth with this.”

“It is my pleasure, but very small in comparison to what you are doing for her.”

He put his arm around Elizabeth’s waist. “I would do anything for her. I love her.”

Elizabeth blushed, but rested her head against him.

Jo smiled broadly. “Clearly.”

Aldous took his wife’s elbow. “We’ll say goodnight, but we’d like to have you both to dinner. Are you free this weekend?”

“We have plans on Saturday,” said Gabe.

“Then how about Sunday?”

Gabe glanced at Elizabeth, who smiled up at him and gave a little nod. He smiled back. “Sunday is perfect.”

Mr. Sinclair nodded. “Excellent. I’ll send a car for you around five.”

Send a car?
“We could just grab a cab.”

“Nonsense. I’ll send a car.” His tone brooked no refusal.

The Sinclairs each shook Gabe’s hand and embraced Elizabeth as they left.

When they were gone, Elizabeth turned to face him, positively beaming. If this was what spending time with them did for her, he didn’t begrudge her a minute.

“I made soup and m—uh—Mrs. Sinclair showed me how to make soda bread. Would you like some?”

He grinned. “I’d love some. I’m just going to take a fast shower first. I’ll be out in five minutes.” He gave her a quick kiss before heading to the bathroom. He didn’t quite understand what had happened today. As he understood it, the Sinclairs had spent the entire day with Elsie. That seemed odd, but Aldous Sinclair was a client of her mother’s. Perhaps he felt he owed it to Mrs. Quinn. Ah well, he wouldn’t worry about it. Elizabeth seemed relaxed and happy.