Your Time is Not Your Own

“Your time is not your own.” It was something Maggie had always said to me. I always thought it was one of those cryptic cliches that got passed down through generations. Now I see the words emblazoned on the family crest that adorns her tombstone. I realize that my dear friend had been sharing this piece of her family history with me.

Maggie had often mentioned I was the granddaughter she never had but I always assumed that her family just didn’t visit much. You can only imagine my surprise when, after her death I learned I was her sole heir. “You crazy old lady. What am I going to do with you?”

“Were you two close?” A strong voice comes from behind and startles me. I lose my footing. Feet sliding around threateningly in the mud, I grab onto a large branch to steady myself, before I land face first in Maggie’s fresh grave. That was not a kind of closeness I craved. Once I feel my feet stabilize I am surprised to find that the branch I am clinging to feels, well, hairy. As the realization of my situation hits me I take several studying breaths before looking the man in the eye.

“Thank you sir.” I finally let go of his arm but am unable to tear my gaze from him. He has a face I have become all too familiar with in the last few days. He had been at Maggie’s funeral and even the auction house. Bidder seven nine two.

It had killed me to sell Maggie’s things but to keep the house and grounds surrounding it, I had to cover the inheritance and property taxes. I had saved some basic furnishings and mementos. Still every gang of the auctioneers gavel had seemed like a betrayal of Maggie. Every antiques dealer and private collector was the villain of their own tale but not this man.

He had come the night before the auction to peruse every item. While he did so, I perused him. He is tall and muscular, his face while alluring, is somehow also non descript. He is a bundle of dark beauty, masked in mystery. He made only one purchase, a box of odds and ends. The auctioneer had explained that none of the items held significant value on their own but together they might tempt a bidder and tempt they had.

He took a single pocket watch from his purchase. The rest he had his staff return to me. The items that were returned to me were some old perfume that still smelled of Maggie, a small set of hair combs, and the necklace I now wore.

“Maggie would say she was like my grandmother. I’d say she was a friend.”

“She was neither.” The man was so sure of himself, that I almost left it at that.

“How would you know?”

“I was a childhood friend of Maggie’s.” This man? This beautiful, mysterious, young man though he was childhood friend of a now deceased octogenarian. Wonderful. I am standing in a graveyard in the dead of night talking with a madman. “Tell me. Why didn’t you sell the house, or at least the property surrounding it.”

“That house is all I have left of my friend.” If I stamp my foot I would have all the credibility of a petulant child. But

“And this graveyard? The tombstones, the dead bodies, the ghosts; they remind you of your friend?”

“Well…no…It just seemed more respectful.” Maggie had been my sole support when I felt most alone. It seemed wrong to sell her family to someone else, even if they were gone.

“How so?”

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” The man simply waits as if I hadn’t asked a question. I finally capitulate and answer his question. “That stone that you are leaning so causally against, is Maggie’s Uncle Frank. He taught her to play the piano and to waltz, even when she protested that it was old fashioned and the least useful thing for her to learn. And this…” I brush past the man pushing him off of Frank’s grave. “...this is Lilianna, Maggie's mother. She was a woman of great beauty but she was a tomboy. She used to run around with Maggie’s father as children and they got into all sorts of mischief. When they wed it was a great scandal because, despite her beauty, she was still the stablemaster’s daughter and considered beneath him. Over here, “ I grab the man’s hand and lead him to a statue of a small child. “This is Maggie’s twin sister Beth. She was lost. It happened at a family picnic. Beth wandered off near the river and they never found her. It was assumed she drowned. Beth is what brought us together.”

The man is silent, encouraging me to continue. “My mother was named Beth and reminded Maggie of her sister, They became quite close. When my mother died I was barely nineteen, across the country at school, and suddenly an orphan. Maggie brought me home, helped me see to the funeral arrangements, but mostly, she supported me. She sat by my bedside as I cried. When I needed to scream, she screamed with me. Finally, when I was ready she helped me pick myself up and get back on my way.”

“What about your mother’s family? Your father?”

“Mom was an orphan. She always said that my father left us before his time.”

“Always playing with time.”

“What?”

“Is your mother buried here?” He ignores my question yet again.

“No. She was killed in an accident. Her body was never found.” I am surprised when he doesn't have more questions than that.

“My name is McUair. It means son of time.”

“My name is Rachel. It means female sheep.” I extend my hand for some reason, not surprised that he ignores it.

“I believe you are half faye” The man grabs my arms and turns me to study my reaction. I do not know if he likes what he sees but it doesn't stop him. “I am McUair son of time. Your father was a water spirit.”

“Thank you for the lovely conversation but I believe you need to go now.”

“Your father had a strange name didn’t he. McUisge.” I stop.

“How do you know my father’s name?”

“Exactly. How could I have guessed such a name?” He stays where I left him, cautiously shifting his weight as if knowing I might run. “I have been searching for you for a long time.” He takes careful steps forward as he speaks. “There was a time when faye and humans did not mix. As a Faye who traveled the timeline I was the only one he knew there would come a time when that prejudice would end. So I stole your mother and brought her to a time when they would be free to love. I didn’t understand that she was only a child. I knew so little of humans. I confessed to Maggie and she was furious.”

“You stole her sister!” Was I entertaining this idea? Faye? Time travel?

“Aye. I was young and naive. I was trying to help. When the faye king found out he punished us all. He took pity on your father. If he would denounce everything he was, all faye, all magic, everything, then his memory would be wiped and he would be sent to a time when he might meet her again. He chose to deny everything he was for the mere chance of loving your mother.”

“In retaliation, Maggie took something very precious from me. My amulet. I cannot safely travel without it. It focuses my power. For years, I bounced around time, trying to hit on the right time. Just as I found her the faye king discovered me. He had taken pity on me for trying to help my friend. He cast a spell on my amulet that I would not recognize it when I saw it. I have been searching for years.”

“The watch!”

“No. I knew Maggie had it. The watch made the most sense. When I failed yet again I thought of the necklace. The one you’re wearing.” I removed the necklace and handed it to him. “You give this so freely. I know you don’t believe me.”

“You’re right. I can’t fathom what you say but I see something too familiar in your eyes.”

“What?”

“Need. Take it. Take what you need from this. It won’t hurt me to give it.”

He snatches it from my hand and bring it to his head. Nothing happens and he collapses in defeat. Sorrow pulses off him in palpable waves tearing through my soul. Before I know it, I am kneeling beside this man embracing him as Maggie once held me. I lift him from the ground and lead him to Beth’s statue.

“Maggie often stood in the very spot late at night. She would sing the most beautiful little tune.

When moon is high and stars show

You think you have no place to go

When doubt creeps in, carry on

Hope will find you at the dawn

You are not alone

Your time is not your own.”

“What would she do next?” McUair asks me through silent tears.

“She would take Beth’s hand and her heart would be whole again.” He closes his eyes and we both stand there in silent for a long moment. “Why don’t you come back to the house? I’ll make you some tea and we can talk more.”

He nods and I turn to leave. When I don’t here him behind me, I look back surprised to be staring at an empty spot between the graves. No strange man. No statue. I look for him near the whole night but can’t find a trace.

Weeks pass and I settle into Maggie’s house as if it were always my home. In a way it always has been. For the first two weeks I return to the cemetery every night, hoping to catch a glimpse of my mysterious stranger. Who am I kidding? Faye? Leave it to me to fall in love with a fairy. At least I now know how far my grief can stretch my imagination.

It has been nearly a year now. It’s Maggie’s birthday and I decide she would not want me to be sad. Instead I’ve planned a little celebration. I’ve baked her favorite sweets, brewed her favorite tea and brought everything to the cemetery. I am surprised to find I am not alone. There by Maggie’s grave is the face I have glimpsed a thousand times over the last months but never found. I’ve chastised myself over and over after I think I see him out of the corner of my eye, yet here he stands.

I set down my picnic, run to him, and smack him as hard as I can.

“You idiot. Do you know how worried I’ve been?” I throw my arms around him and hug him tightly to my chest, grateful to find that he is a solid being. “How could you disappear like that? I looked everywhere for you. Truly. I have checked for sink holes, trap doors, collapsed tunnels, and there was nothing. This is the most solid ground on the entire property.”

“I’m sorry.” He pulls back only slightly. “Do you know me?”