After supper, Sam worked on his report. Sitting at the kitchen table, he used his mom's
laptop to type some notes from the library books. He wished they had the Internet at home but
Emily had decided against it, afraid Sam would spend too much time web surfing. Besides, it was free at the library. Sam wished he had looked through more of the
books, but then he got two ideas.
"Mom, I'm
going down to see Mrs. Steers," said Sam.
His mom was putting away the last of the dishes from dinner.
"Why?" Emily asked.
"She has a lot of books. Maybe she has some about my topic," he
replied. His second motive was to see if
she would mention the newspaper if he talked about Jack the Ripper. What a prop
for his class presentation!
Sam daydreamed for a moment…
Sam stood before his history class ready to speak.
"Please go ahead," said Mr. Martin.
"For my presentation, I chose Jack the Ripper,
the famous serial killer. And here, in
this box, is a clue to his identity."
Sam opened the box and a bloody human kidney rolled onto the floor. Students
screamed and raced out the door.
"Hmmm… that's strange. Where did that come from?"
Sam snapped out of his daydream with the sound of his
mom's voice. "Sam? Did you hear
me? Don't bother her if she's busy."
"Okay, I promise." He dashed downstairs. After ringing her doorbell and waiting, Mrs.
Steers finally opened the door.
"Hello, Sam." Mrs. Steers greeted him in a cheerful
voice. "Come in. I was getting ready to cut the sugar cream
pie I made this morning. Would you like a piece?"
Sam's mouth watered from the smell of the pie. He loved sugar cream pie. Following her to the dining room, the sweet aroma
of the pie lingered. He saw it on the
dining table, as well as two plates, two forks, and two glasses as if she were
expecting him. The rich creamy pie
tasted like the ones his Grandma Henry made.
Before sitting down, Mrs. Steers picked up the red
Christmas box from the sideboard and placed it next to him. "Oh and here's this. The newspaper. I left it in the box for safe keeping. I hope your classmates won't take it too
seriously. How would you explain
it? Who would ever believe you had a
real finger print from Jack the Ripper?"
Sam stopped chewing on the last bit of pie and stared
at her. He sat back in his chair, still
holding his plate and fork in hand.
"Mrs. Steers!
How did you know I wanted to ask you about borrowing the newspaper?" His stomach started churning and he became
little light-headed. He started to shake.
Sam was having a panic attack, something that happened
when he became overanxious, extremely uncomfortable, or scared. Sam dropped the plate and fork onto the
carpet. He grabbed the edge of the table
trying to get up from the chair. The
room began spinning and went dark. For
the first time, he fully passed out, falling to the dining room floor.
Sometime later, Sam awoke on the red overstuffed couch
in the front parlor. Mrs. Steers was
draping a cool, damp washcloth across his forehead.
"You gave me quite a fright." Mrs. Steers
leaned over Sam.
"What
happened? Where am I?" Groggy, Sam looked up at her.
"You passed out.
I had to drag you to the couch from the dining room."
"You did?" said Sam. “I’ve never passed out
before.”
"Does this happen often?" inquired Mrs.
Steers. "I didn't want to bother
your mother. You have one more thing in
common with Albert. You have panic
attacks. He did the exact same thing,
only he never passed out.”
"Really?
The last I remember… was something greenish…"
"Lie still for a moment. Let me get you some water." Mrs. Steers reached for a glass and a pitcher
of water on the side table. She poured
some water for them both.
"Take a few sips. You need to rest for a
few moments. In the meantime, let me
tell you about one of Albert's mysterious travels. Even though I know you don't
believe me, please indulge me for a few moments."
Sam rolled his eyes.
Mrs. Steers retrieved a small silver cardboard box from a writing desk
across the room.
"Let me see. This was about twenty-five years
ago, maybe late January… hmmm… lots of snow that year. Albert and I were snowbound for a couple of
days. We didn't mind. By that time, we had been living here about a
year and were still unpacking his books.
Albert had so many books."
Sam glanced up at the packed bookcases on each side of the fireplace.
"We worked for days arranging them. One day, I got tired of opening boxes of
books and decided to go to my sewing room.
I was working on a new quilt for one of the guest bedrooms. I had never made a quilt before. What a challenge that was! I had bought a new sewing machine and a quilt
kit with the material already pre-cut.
The instructions said all I had to do was sew it together… Humph, that's another story!
Anyway, Albert was taking a break and was reading
something about Queen Victoria, her family, her reign, and something else… The
next thing I knew in walked Albert, bouncing like a kid, into my sewing room.
"Lottie, I've decided to travel back to London
for Queen Victoria's Golden Jubilee in 1887.
Want to come?"
I was so frustrated by that damn quilt… Oh pardon
me… I mean that darn quilt… and was trying
to get a seam to line up or something… I
muttered "Oh go see that darned old Queen." I wasn't nice… It wasn't the Queen's or
Albert's fault… I was furious with that easy-to-piece-together quilt!
Albert went back downstairs to the back parlor and
took off, so to speak. He had moved his
high back chair and table down from the attic.
About fifteen minutes later, Albert came running back into my sewing
room. At first, he stood there and
looked at me. Exhausted and sweaty. Albert
wasn't the same after that trip. Each
time, we traveled somewhere, it was as if he had some sort of mission..."
She stopped mid-sentence and squinted her eyes, as if pondering her last
statement.
"Anyway, that trip to London had been different
somehow. He babbled on for a little
while. I remember thinking maybe he wasn't
feeling well. He kept going on about
someone named Graff, some Irishmen, and dynamite.
I said "Albert, maybe we had better stop this
time-traveling. This last trip has upset you.
He said it was nothing, trying to reassure me. But then, his tone changed. "Lottie, I have something to show you."
He held out his hand and in it was this."
Mrs. Steers removed the lid from the box. Inside, on a piece of fluffy off-white
padding laid a silver broach with what looked to be diamonds around the edge
and a prominent red stone in the middle.
Sam had never seen such a piece of jewelry.
"What is that?" asked Sam, puzzled by it.
"Part of an intriguing mystery," said Mrs.
Steers staring into Sam's eyes. “You
like mysteries, Sam." Sam grinned
at her mention of the word 'mystery.'
"Yeah." replied Sam softly. "I love 'em."
"Albert actually picked up this silver broach and
brought it back with him." said Mrs. Steers.
"But how did he..." said Sam.
"Let me ramble for another moment. Albert was so exhausted after that trip that
he took an afternoon nap. He hadn't napped
before in the afternoon. But eventually,
he told me all about it. Seeing London,
celebrating Queen Victoria's fifty years of being… well, the Queen."
Mrs. Steers drifted back to that day and told Sam yet
another tale.
"Albert hung out with Queen the whole day and
well into the next. Let me think…" Mrs. Steers retrieved a book from the shelves
in order to check her dates. "Ah
yes, it would have been June 20th … definitely 1887. My mind!
I can remember the stories but never the dates. I've been to so many places." She returned the book to its place on the
shelf.
"Albert watched the Queen at Buckingham Palace,
and later that evening she had a large dinner with her family. Albert enjoyed
watching the whole affair.
Later, he saw the Queen in her carriage riding through
London. A little short and stout but having
a presence that made her outshine all around her. This was a momentous day in history, not just
for the Queen, but for my Albert. It was
on that day that Albert saw someone looking at him."
"You mean looking through him?" said
Sam. "He wasn't actually there for
anyone to see. Right?"
"That's right.
He wasn't there," said Mrs. Steers. "But across the street
stood a mysterious fellow looking right at him. Albert said it startled him at
first, but then he realized the stranger must have been looking at something else
behind him. So, Albert started walking
down the street, but the man appeared to follow him. After a few steps, Albert got scared and
began to run. He wasn't sure what to
do.
Soon, the man shouted at Albert to stop. "Stop! Namvelt. You have Namvelt's book."
That got Albert's attention so he stopped and the man caught up with
him, stopping a few feet away.
"Please… I can see you. You are not of this time. I've been following you for a while. I didn't
want to scare you."
Albert panted from running. "Yes, I have Namvelt's book, but how did
you know? Who are you?"
"I know you received it from Rupert Jameson in
London several years ago. I am Xavier Graff.
I want to talk to you."
That has to be the same Xavier who visited
Mrs. Steers earlier? Sam thought to himself as he sat up catching
the wet wash cloth as it fell from his forehead.
"From then on, Albert would sometimes bring
something back with him," said Mrs. Steers. "We picked up many common items like a
pencil or a glass, but also many interesting and unusual pieces as well. I always numbered them and kept a list of
them." Sam remembered the #39 on
the note with the newspaper. That
explained at least one thing.
"After that trip to the Golden Jubilee, Albert
started getting odd telephone calls. I
overheard one of Albert's conversations.
Something about time shifting… getting the books… grabbing things… And then strangers I didn't know showed up
and asked to see him. Albert would meet
them on the porch, then go sit in the park.
I began to suspect Albert was involved in something
more than just time travel. I'm not sure if he had told someone else about our
trips. I also wondered if he was selling
what he brought back, but everything was always accounted for."
This story is getting weirder and weirder,
Sam thought. And what about this
Xavier Graff? The guy I saw was young.
Sam took his opportunity. "Who is Xavier Graff? He must be really old."
"Xavier was a fellow time-traveler. He passed away a few years ago. He had a son, but I don't see him much anymore,
but his grandson stops by to visit."
Ah-ha, now we are getting somewhere, Sam thought. But that didn't explain the conversation he
heard. I can't mention it. She might get mad about my eavesdropping.
The mantel clock chimed five times. "Is it five? My mom's going to be mad at me for taking up
your time. And I have homework to do." Sam raced towards the front door.
Can't wait until Wednesday!
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