“Jane.” Lizzy spoke from her bench at the piano as she plonked out what sounded vaguely like Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata. “Allow me the pleasure of introducing you to Mr.Tucker Taylor.”
“Mr.Tucker. Taylor.” Jane enunciated each word slowly, as if the name was as weird as someone shouting “hippopotamus” in a crowded bar.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Tuck offered his most charming drawl and added a small bow for good measure. He wasn’t a born-and-raised Texan, but this Michigan kid had lived in the Lone Star State long enough to have absorbed a few southern manners.
Jane’s eyes widened ever so slightly.
“Yes. You heard him correctly. Mr.Taylor’s American.” Lizzy’s tone could mean anything from “What did I do to deserve this?” to “We must all suffer together.” She hit another discordant note on the keys, the jarring sound making everyone flinch.
Tuck was suddenly tired. Tired of the headache that lingered behind his eyes. Tired of the fact that he felt half starved and sick from swallowing so much swamp water. Tired of standing in these fun-sized pants and too-tight shirt, hoping his next deep breath didn’t split a seam and send all these proper women into fainting fits. Tired of Lizzy butchering Beethoven to mask their whispers.
“I’m sensing quite a tale,” Jane remarked, stating the obvious.
Georgie exhaled a windstorm through her nose.
Lizzy told the story, while her cousin interrupted most sentences with an exclamation or a curse. Jane listened in absolute silence, almost quivering with concentration.
When Lizzy was done talking, her words seemed to hang in the air, each one hitting Tuck like a gut punch. His mind reeled as he tried to process everything that had occurred in the past few hours. The tension coiled up inside him until he could barely draw a breath.
“Absolutely preposterous,” Jane whispered. “Completely impossible.” As Lizzy stood from the piano bench, ready to argue, Jane raised a hand to stop her. “But,” she continued, “there have been local legends.” She glanced at Georgie with an unreadable expression. “You know them too.”
Georgie nodded as Jane continued. “Folks arriving from other times or vanishing for good during the full moon. This land has ancient roots, what with all the barrows, and then the stones.”
“Barrows?” Tuck asked. “You mean—”
“Yes, the mounds back in the forest,” Lizzy finished.
“Druids, and those who came before them—the Old Ones,” Georgie interjected. “They understood the land’s magic, the ancient knowledge that’s been long forgotten. When Christianity arrived with its priests, they forbade everything interesting and wild.”
“That’s heresy,” Jane murmured. Although, she didn’t sound as shocked as Tuck had expected.
“I know you’re a curate’s daughter.” Georgie spoke calmly, soothingly, even. “But I’m not wrong. It’s only a day’s ride out to the Salisbury Plain to see the rock ring at Stonehenge. The Old Ones understood the world in ways we don’t. Magic is likely all around, and they knew how to read the signs. We’ve lost the ability in this modern world.”
Tuck’s mind swirled as he rocked back on his heels, but Georgie was right. This was the modern world. To them at least.
“But without proof...” Jane rose and walked to one of the large windows, idly flicking the fringe on the curtain.
“His clothing,” Lizzy hissed so loudly it might as well have been a shout. “Look at the shoes he is wearing. I’ve never seen anything like them. None of us have.”
He glanced at his Nike Dunks. Would he have to burn them? Bury them? Hide them away? The idea of someone a few hundred years from now opening up a trunk and finding the mystery of his shoes was a little funny.
“Show them the talking device that took that portrait of me,” Lizzy ordered.
“A talking device?” Georgie leaned in, intrigued. “What do you mean by that?”
“Yeah. I have something. I don’t want to show you much because—” He glanced at Lizzy, mentally willing her to help him explain.
“He fears we’ll disrupt the future should we possess too much knowledge,” she clarified.
“My goodness. He’s quite right. That does require an adjustment,” Jane said to no one in particular as Tucker went to his jacket and unzipped the inner pocket, taking out his phone.
Georgie, Jane, and Lizzy drew in close, attracted to what he was holding, making small noises of wonder. Lizzy reached out and poked the glass.
“Wait until you see what it can do,” she breathed.
He pulled up the photo he’d taken of Lizzy by the pond. Before they finished gasping, he swiped to a picture that Nora had snapped last night, a selfie with Tucker from inside the pub.
“This is me and my younger sister.”
