“Now they care about enriching our lives.” Garrett sniffed.
Izzy pulled out a stack of notebooks and placed them on the table beside the box. “These are their journals.”
Max squeezed between Garrett and Izzy and began shuffling through the journals.
Not bothering to move aside to give his sister better access, Garrett narrowed his eyes and wrinkled his nose at the pile as if they smelled like fresh horse manure.
He continued to read the letter aloud. “We have always beenproud of each and every one of you, and we couldn’t have been more pleased that you are all successful, intelligent adults.”
“Sure. As long as we stayed out of their hair,” Max mumbled.
Garrett chuckled, but Izzy looked at her with wide, sad eyes. Abby stopped herself from going to her and comforting her. She knew Izzy detested it when Max or Garrett blamed their parents for not spending more time with them. Izzy was always quick to make excuses for them.
Continuing, Garrett read, “The journals will clarify what we have been doing all these years and why our work kept us away from home so often. Please do not meddle with the time device until you have read every journal.”
“Fair enough,” Max said, and handed one of the books to Garrett.
Abigail thought for a moment her brother wasn’t going to take it, but he begrudgingly accepted it. He held the journal away from his body as if he were scared a giant spider would crawl out of the pages and bite him.
Max let out a laugh. “So, we finally find out what they’ve been doing all these years instead of, like, raising us?”
Izzy gave Max a slight shake of her head. “Our parents may not have been with us every moment while we were growing up, but they did love us.”
She gazed at Abby for reinforcement, so Abby said, “We know they loved us, don’t we, Maxine? Garrett?”
“I guess,” Max said.
Garrett’s bottom lip dropped. “If you say so.”
Abby glanced at the orb and a thrill of excitement pushed away the dread in her chest. Even without understanding exactly what it was, she knew with certainty there was something strange about the orb. For starters, it looked brand new. It was clean and smooth, and white as a fresh sheet of paper.
Her parents hated modern ornaments; their idea ofdecorating was displaying the oldest stuff they could find in whatever condition they found it. Her mother had often said a chip here and there added character to an item. The white orb had no character whatsoever, even the gold filigree appeared newly made. It was the opposite of anything her parents would have wanted in their house.
Her eyes swept over her siblings. Garrett had his bored look firmly in place, and Max was still wrinkling her nose as if she couldn’t care less. Izzy was the only other person who looked intrigued as she gazed in awe at the ornament.
Abby eyed the orb and drew in a deep breath. “Maybe we’ll find out what they meant bya time deviceif we actually read the journals.”
Izzy was already reading, and Max plucked a book off the table.
Garrett glanced at the journal he’d left on the table and stared at Abby.
“Come on, Garrett. This could be interesting,” Abby said. “Think about it. Something important must have had them traipsing all about the globe instead of parenting us.” He picked up the journal and Abby hid a smile. At least he was listening.
“If I’m honest and not letting my nasty side out, I do believe they loved us.” Max huffed.
Abby continued. “Remember how they made it a point to always be here for our birthdays? And remember how much fun we had chasing Dad around the house? He always let us take turns in catching him, so we must have meant something to them for them to do that.” Gazing at each of them, she raised her eyebrows in question.
“Maybe,” Max said.
Garrett flipped his book open. “Fine.”
Abby shook her head as she absently flipped through the typed journal. “Let’s just read what they have to say. But first, I’ve got to eat some of this wonderful food Garrett made for us.”
They all agreed and sat back down in their seats to eat.
After she was well and truly sated, Abby moved her plate and began flipping through the journal. Her eyes caught a bolded sentence.
Naseby, Northamptonshire, England, 1645.
