Footprints At Dawn (Book 2)

Chapter Nine

"My father?" Nicholas asked me, brows furrowed in confusion. "What does my father have to do with anything?"

"Well, I've been putting together your family tree, gathering information about each person." I suddenly felt a little embarrassed by that, unsure if he thought it was an invasion in privacy. It was too late now, but that invasion of privacy led me to find a family secret that probably should have stayed a secret. "It-it made me feel closer to you," I explained, but going by the small smile on his face, he wasn't mad.

"That's a lovely thought, Matilda. But wouldn't information about us be hard to find in your time? Seeing as, well, you know, in one hundred and fifty years time, me and my family are long gone."

"Yes, some things are hard to find." Like a certain death record or two, I thought to myself. "But let's just say there are millions of records stored on this wonderful invention called the internet, which makes some information easy to find. Birth, marriage and death records, for example."

He nodded as though understanding what I was talking about. "So you were able to find the records you were looking for to put together my family tree?"

This time it was my turn to nod. "Some. But not all of them."

"Oh?"

Our hands had somehow drifted apart during our conversation and I rejoined them, not sure who needed the support more; me or him.

"I couldn't seem to find a death record for your father. I thought it was odd, seeing as he only died two days after your mother, but I didn't think too much of it at the time."

He shrugged, not too concerned about the news. "Good thing his death date is recorded on his headstone, then. Besides, one hundred and fifty years is a long time to store a piece of paper safely. There's floods, fire, theft..."

"Yes, there's always that possibility, and I probably wouldn't have thought anymore on it, but... What you said in your letter about seeing your father's ghost..."

He chuckled, surprising me. "Oh, Matilda. Yes, at first I thought it was my father's ghost, but then I said it was just a lookalike sent to upset me. That's why I went to confront Doyle, remember?"

"Yes, but look at the clues, Nicholas. I can't find a death record for him. You say you saw someone who looks exactly like he would now if he hadn't died. And this person was standing at your parents' gravesite. Why would he do that? To visit your mother, perhaps?"

He sat there, staring across the room, thinking it over. He didn't talk for several minutes, and I waited patiently for him to process the information.

Finally he spoke in a soft voice. "But he died of scarlet fever, Matilda," he said, eyes shifting back to look at me. "He died two days after my mother, who died of the same illness. If he really did survive, why would he hide the fact? Why would he cause me so much grief?" he asked, raising his voice at the last question, and I could tell he was starting to feel agitated by the possibility that the shocking news could actually be true.

"I really don't know, Nicholas," I said, rubbing his arm to comfort him. I could see the hurt in his eyes, and I was doubting myself for coming back and being the cause of it. Maybe I should have let the secret stay a secret, after all.

Oh god, what had I done?

He startled me when he jumped up from the sofa, striding over to the fireplace, hands on his hips. "This is all speculation, Matilda." His voice was louder, firmer, and it was hard to tell if he was angry at me or just stating a fact. It reminded me of the tone he used when we first met, and I didn't like it.