His father was told about Matthias, of course. There was no easy way to go about it. Christopher’s disposition remained relatively somber for a few days. When that cloud passed, and they were all smiles again, Danny asked if he was all right.
“It’s a shame that it had to happen to such a good man. He was good, Danny. Was. I don’t know what happened to him.”
“He fell in love. He grew selfish.”
“True love isn’t selfish, Danny.”
They were in the kitchen, sitting at the table while Leila fried eggs. His parents exchanged a small, meaningful smile. “True love is selfless. Sometimes it means you fight for it, and other times, it means you need to let go. You’ll learn that for yourself, one day.”
Danny bit the inside of his cheek. “Dad …” He cleared his throat when Christopher looked at him. “I’m sorry. About Maldon.”
“Don’t be sorry.”
“But I told you to go. None of this would have happened if—”
“If Matthias had done the right thing,” his father finished. “He should have known better.”
Danny pushed the bacon around on his plate. He felt his mother’s eyes on him, saying what Danny already knew: they couldn’t tell Christopher about Colton. Not yet.
Not everything.
His father called him to the door when the post arrived. “Something for you.”
“For me?” Danny never received letters except for payments, but he hadn’t received any of those since being fired.
“Says your name right here.” Christopher handed it to him with a sad smile. “God, every time I see you is a surprise. You’ve grown so much.”
Danny flushed and took the envelope. On the front was his name, but no return address. Someone must have shoved it through the mail slot.
“I’ve got an idea,” Christopher said. “Let’s take a walk to the confectioner’s. Grab ourselves some gingerbread.”
Danny returned his father’s smile. “I’d like that.” He slid his thumb under the flap and tore open the letter, which was only one page. While Christopher looked through the newspaper—“Looks like those tower protests have started up in India, can you believe it?”—Danny quickly read the short message.
Do not think this is finished.
You know something.
We’ll be watching.
“Ticker?” His father looked up to see Danny standing rigid in the entryway, his face pale. “What’s the matter?”
The hairs on the back of Danny’s neck stood on end, and the scab on his palm itched. Somewhere, someone was interested in him. Interested in what he knew.
We’ll be watching.
“Danny?”
He crumpled the letter in his hand. “Nothing. Just some rubbish.”
It was amazing, the difference between the old auto and this one. Danny wished he could have spent his first real drive in a better mood, but as it was, he muttered to himself most of the way.
“Can’t believe—of all the bloody nerve—when I explicitly said—”
He steered easily away from the bump in the road. The old auto had been cleared away by now, and good riddance. Danny didn’t need more reminders of that frantic drive.
When he reached Enfield and parked the auto, he grabbed his bag and slid out. The air smelled fresh and bright. Despite his mood, he stopped to inhale a lungful.
As Danny walked through the green, people saw him and cheered. He waved shyly. Somehow, he had become Enfield’s hero. Although a little pleased with the title, he made sure not to let it go to his head.
Harland gave him a wink as he passed.
All right, not too much to his head.
His smile faded when he thought back to the anonymous letter. We’ll be watching. As he often did now, Danny looked around, but all the faces he saw were familiar. No strangers watching him too closely.
Pulling his scarf tighter around his throat, he banished the thought. There were other things he had to take care of.
First, he stopped by the dilapidated statue. The faceless figure of Aetas stared back at him. Danny took out the small cog and held it to his lips, remembering the power that had ignited his blood. The thrill of time tangled within his veins.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
Maybe one day he would understand. For now, this was between him and an absent god.
He turned away from the hedge. Within a minute he was standing before the clock tower. Looking up, he spotted the problem that had been reported just this morning after a lazy breakfast with his parents. A small chip of glass was missing from the clock face.
Danny’s mutters began again as he climbed the stairs. He was supposed to have drinks with Brandon today, but upon accepting the job, his apprentice had most unexpectedly called in sick, even giving him a monotone cough through the telephone receiver. Danny had heard better acting from a puppet.
Reaching the clock room, he sighed and set down his bag and coat. When he turned, Colton was sitting on a nearby box. The sight of him made Danny ache.
“I hope you’re happy with yourself,” Danny said, rolling up his sleeves. He gestured at the missing sliver of the clock face. There was a mirroring scar on Colton’s jaw. “The whole town’s shaking their heads at you again. What have I told you about this? You said you’d never do it again.”