The Awkward Love Song of Abigail Archer

Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

The Timekeeper smiled and handed a petite, gray-haired woman her receipt and newly fixed timepiece enclosed in a small box. The elegant white bow atop the box was a tad surprising for Marcus, but not much. The Timekeeper always took immense pride in his work and so such displays were almost fitting. On looking fleetingly over the woman’s shoulder and meeting Marcus’s eyes, the Timekeeper’s uncharacteristic smile withered to the pits of glumness Marcus had grown accustomed to.

Marcus’s stomach soured. It was obvious he was the last person the Timekeeper wanted to see, and the feeling was mutual. But after walking countless streets, drenched and cold, Marcus was still at a loss. East, West, North, and South, there was nowhere to go. He had thought to take Abigail to his home, at least until he could sort out the mess he’d brought on his own head, but Margaret would never allow it. She would sooner resign from her existence and stand before the Timekeeper, affirming she was done with life, before seeing Marcus cater his attentions on another woman. Whatever his reasons for sparing Abigail would mean little to Margaret. All she would see was another reason why Marcus refused to love her. All that would haunt her thoughts would be the countless times he’d shown such compassion to another woman for the means of a meaningless tumble. She would remember everything she lost because of him, never understanding that Abigail was different. No, he couldn’t have taken her home. To take Abigail from one quarreling couple to another was out of the question.

The older woman rambled on endlessly about the purpose of her gift, words that died to the violent pangs of Marcus’s heartbeats. Finally, the doorbells jingled and she was gone. The Timekeeper plucked up small scraps of white lace and returned the scissors back to the cup beside the cash register. He looked at the mechanical contraption and paused, shaking his head with a breathless chuckle.

Marcus took the silent cue and placed the suitcase beside Abigail who sat on a worn chair by the window. Her eyes were captured by the blackened grout and she twisted her fingers on her lap. Marcus bent beside her and looked up to her downturned face. Her confidence was fading. The green in her eyes glimmered with uncertainty and fear that materialized into tears.

She inched closer. “Is he, you know, Death?”

Marcus shook his head, gladdened when her shoulders relaxed. “He’s a friend of mine that’s helped me out before. You don’t have to be scared. Sit here and I’ll only be a minute,” he whispered. Marcus forced a smile to his lips. It never worked with Margaret, but there with Abigail, his mouth curved into a genuine smile. “Everything is going to be okay.”

At this, Abigail’s eyes flicked to his. “Okay? I’m cold, wet, and in a watch repair shop with the man who’s supposed to take my life. I can’t go back home, I can’t die, and everything is going to be okay?” Her frame bounced once with a sad chuckle. She turned her head down again and droplets of water streamed down her cheek. Marcus trailed one with his eyes in all its torture, and his smile withered. He forced himself to straighten up and reached the checkout counter on one breath.

The Timekeeper opened the register and slid a receipt beneath the cash tray. “Please tell me that we made a mistake and that Abigail Archer’s name was indeed on the list,” he said, never bothering to look at Marcus. “Tell me that it was an oversight on both of our parts. Tell me that it is not Abigail Archer I see there, sitting in my waiting area, alive.”

Marcus didn’t say a word.

The Timekeeper shut the register with a slight click. “Right.” Studiously gazing at Marcus and then at Abigail as if the entire situation were fascinating, he shook his head. “You know I need her soul, Marcus., I have no use for the body.”