Time Will Tell [Complete]

Chapter Seven

  The next morning when Lizzy woke up, the first thing she did was pick the hay out of her hair. She glanced out the window to decipher what time it was, and as she did so, she noticed a folded beige piece of paper with her name on it. Lizzy immediately recognized the handwriting.

She unfolded it and scanned the contents, her face slowly draining of all colour as she did. This is what she read:

Dear Lizzy,

I'm trying to warn you... she's not to be trusted. I can't tell you who I mean, but it's important that you learn who I'm writing about and destroy this once you do. DON'T BECOME TOO ATTACHED. THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING.

Your friend Amanda, disguised as – ahem – 'Minnie', just letting you know I left George healthy. Please heed my warning.

PLEASE KEEP THEM SAFE.

Keep the world safe.

'Minnie'

Lizzy, in a bit of shock at the bold letter, gently folded the page and hid it under the pile of hay she called a bed. She stood and slowly dressed in her usual work clothes, preparing for a barrage of requests as soon as she entered the house. What she found, however, was that almost nobody was up. She remembered it was Sunday, and Patrick and Finn were heading for church. Alone.

A single figure stood at the counter with his back to her, and whoever it was didn't seem to notice her as she closed the door with a small creak.

He sipped his coffee. She stepped across the room and placed a hand on his arm.

"I just thought I'd give them a chance." Patrick put his mug down and buried his face in his hands.

"Well, I suppose church just isn't for some people." Lizzy leaned against the counter, elbows supporting her weight.

"What about you? I know you said not for two weeks, but..." His eyes were bright and hopeful. She hated to let him down.

"I'm sorry. I – can't. Not today."

"Why not?"

Lizzy looked away. "Something – well, a while ago –" She sighed. "I used to go to church. Every Sunday. With my godmother and – her daughters. My – god sisters? I still don't know what to call them."

Patrick laughed. Lizzy did, too, but her eyes were far away. She was transported to a different time – a simpler one.

"I remember I was always so excited for the weekend to come – I could barely wait. I loved all the pretty dresses, hair ribbons, and let me tell you, we never ran out of ribbons! There were always plenty. More than plenty.

"Early February. We were about to leave, all of us were getting our spring jackets on in the parlour – it was a mild winter, especially for Germany – and someone knocked. Well, more like banged on the door – and everyone was suddenly at strict attention. No-one made a sound.

"My godmother told us not to leave the room under any circumstance. Even if she asked us to leave later, not to go with her. Then she left the room.

"Suddenly, there was a large noise – a bang – we were all huddled together on the couch and we flinched in unison, then laughed. We had to. Without that laughter we would've left when the imposters – soldiers of some sort – tried to drag us out of the room, would've gone with them. The stress levels were too high, our minds to young, too vulnerable. After they left – 'we don't need more children anyway,' they said – all seven of us rushed to the church, forgetting our grandmother's warning and – and –" Lizzy's tears slowly dribbled their way to her chin, collecting there. Patrick reached over and gently brushed them off. "Sorry," he said softly. "They were going to drip. Continue."