“It can’t be true,” I breathe. “There must be an explanation for this.”
I jump as I hear a sound at the door. When I turn, Sigurd is leaning against the jamb. His full lips are drawn tight, and an almost sad expression appears in his usually merry eyes.
He doesn’t say anything, and the silence stretches until I say, “Is this…” I clear my throat. “I want to say this is a relative of yours, but it isn’t, is it?”
I’m expecting him to laugh. I’m expecting him to offer an explanation. I’m stunned when he does neither.
He hesitates for a long beat, and then he shakes his head, his face grave. I suck in a breath, feeling the room spin around me.
It doesn’t make sense, and the rational part of my brain is screaming at me that I’m wrong, but some other part of me, something that feels like it's slowly awakening after a long sleep, imbues my next words with surety. “This is actually you, isn’t it? Youdidteach that old man.”
The silence stretches, and I gasp as he slowly nods.
“Yes. That is me, Cary.”
Chapter Five
For several moments all I can hear is the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. I look at him and then back at the people in the photo.
“But how can that be?” I breathe. “You should be older than that man.”
I wonder suddenly if I fell on the beach on the rocks and I’m now lying in a coma, dreaming of handsome, strange men and beautiful homes. Maybe that’s it. I rest my fingers against my forehead. I’m hot. Do I have a fever? Is it making me hallucinate? I pinch my hand and grimace. Yep. It hurts. No, I’m not dreaming.
Sigurd watches me solemnly. There’s a funny light in his eyes that I can’t decipher at all.
“That can’t be,” I say again. “Can it?”
“And yet it is,” he says quietly. “That is me.” He sighs. “It was a good year. An innocent year before darkness fell over the world.”
“What did you say to that man when you returned his scarf?” I blurt.
“I said he was the best student I ever had, and it was the truth. A fine mind full of curiosity. I’ve never met one such as that.” He pauses and then says steadily, “Until you.”
“Me?” I say, stunned. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“You have a lively curiosity, a fearless disposition, and a keen eye.”
“I feel like I’ve been moving through a fog over the last two days,” I admit.
He’s still leaning against the doorjamb, but his manner isn’t relaxed. “Mayhap that is because you are straddling two worlds and have finally become aware of the fact.”
“What does that even mean?” I say helplessly. I glance at the picture. “This doesn’t make any sense. It can’t be you.”
“And yet it is, Cary.” His tone is sympathetic.
“But how?”
He considers me for a long moment, and I drag in a startled breath as he rises to his full height and moves in quick strides to the desk. He offers me his hand. “Would you come with me?”
“W-What for?”
“I have something to show you.”
“And when you’ve shown me this something, will you tell me what’s going on?”
“Ah, Cary. They are one and the same.” His hand is still outstretched, and I think I detect a trace of hope and a hint of sadness in his voice. He expects me to say no, I realise with a shock.
And I should say no. This whole situation is becoming increasingly bizarre. Yet I trust him. It’s a feeling that seems to be rooted in my bones, and it compels me to stand and take his hand.
