Into the Dim (Into the Dim, #1)(35)

The next few lines were too smeared to read. I skipped ahead, though a cold foreboding crept up my legs as I perched on the edge of a deep leather chair.



My mother and our Henry met us at the top. Our son had grown tall and straight as a sword over the summer. Oh, how his young face lit to see his mother so sunburned and jolly. He lived for the day I would take him on his first journey, two years hence, when he turned sixteen.



“Wherever are the girls?” Julia asked, puzzled. Unusual, their absence. Normally they were first to greet us, begging to view the trinkets and treasures we brought back. Bubbly Catherine, who at twelve already cared far too much for boys and pretty dresses. And Penelope. Only ten and already a little scholar.



“Yes,” Archie called. “I’ve brought Penny a fern to identify.”



“Father!” Henry’s face, aghast and suddenly pale. My mother’s hand flew to her mouth.



“What’s happened to the girls?” I demanded. “Tell us.”



It couldn’t have been serious. Only three days had passed, and surely they would have informed us at once.



“Are they ill?” My voice sounded hollow, as if it came from the bottom of a well.



“But, Father . . . Mother?” I remember, quite clearly, hearing the tremor in my son’s voice. “Why would you say such things, when my sisters have been dead these two years?”





I flinched at the sound of a door closing nearby. Someone was back, but I had to know what happened. I traced a finger over the bottom of the page where the lines had been crossed out with such vehemence, the thick vellum was ripped. I had a hard time swallowing as I turned to the slashed, crabbed writing that followed.



Archie rode for the loch as if the hounds of hell were at his heels. Julia and I stayed behind, begging my mother for an explanation.



As she spoke in a tight, choked voice, my mind whipped back to the day, two winters past, when my sweet girls—skating alone on the frozen loch—had fallen through the ice.



“No!” Julia insisted. “No. They pulled themselves out. I remember it well. A small incident, nothing more. They were but wet and chilled. Stop this insanity! Why do you keep shaking your head at me like that?”



My mother lost the ability to speak and fled our chamber in tears. When Archie returned, his face was the color of chalk. I wanted to pull him aside, but Julia wouldn’t have it.



Our friend tried to be brave as he explained that the trees we’d pulled from the earth in that previous time were gone. Those mighty oaks did not exist in this time. I stumbled backward as though he’d struck me when he whispered, “The roots, man. Don’t you remember? The roots had weakened the ice near the shore. The girls were able to break free and wade to safety because of the roots. Without them, the ice was too thick near the edge, and . . .”



I fell to my knees before my beloved as the truth struck home. “Forgive me,” I whispered. “May God forgive us all, for we’ve killed our sweet girls.”





I sat back hard in the chair, hand covering my mouth.

“Read it, did you?”

I jumped up. I hadn’t heard Collum enter. Tears blurred his features as I gulped. “I—I can’t believe it. It’s so awful. Those poor people.”

I glanced at the portrait next to the mantle. Jonathan’s family, still whole and happy. I tore my eyes away, unable to bear looking at the faces of the cheerful little girls.

Collum didn’t move from his spot near the fireplace, lit even in summer against the chill evenings. “Read the rest,” he said quietly. “It’s on the last page.”

Hesitant, I picked up the book and flipped through a series of blank pages until I reached the final one, written in Jonathan’s looping scrawl. It held only a few words.



Mea culpa. Mea culpa. Mea maxima culpa.





“My fault,” I whispered, translating the Latin phrase. “My fault. My most grievous fault.”

And just below.



Must find the Nonius Stone. Tesla says it’s the only way.





I turned back to Collum, but he was frowning down into the flames. I knew what he was thinking. The Nonius Stone. If his father was still alive, it was the only thing that might save him.

“But doesn’t this prove that anything we touch could affect the timeline?” I asked.

“Unlikely,” he said. “Other than this, and the King John treasure debacle, we haven’t found that to be the case. The Carlyles were too close to their own time. And on their own property. Plus, they made a deliberate change. But it doesn’t mean we aren’t very, very careful.”

At my horrified expression, he sighed and replaced the poker. Sitting, he scooted his chair close, until our knees were almost touching.

“What if I mess everything up? I mean, I have no idea what I’m doing, Collum. What if—”

“Hey,” he said, shocking the tears away when he took my cold hands between his own. His level, serious gaze captured mine. “You’ll be fine. You’re smart. Smarter than anyone I’ve ever known. And Phoebe and I will be with you. I—we—will keep you safe.”