I walked through the blackened forest, heavy clouds guarding the heavens. Light rain pattered my shoulders. Covered in ash, the small cottage exuded foreboding. Yet I didn’t see the aftermath.
I saw the before.
A soothing sense of déjà vu washed over me. My grandparents seemed to stand on the porch, waiting patiently for me to race up the creaky steps. Every winter had been a little different, but the view had never changed. Nestled in the forest, the cottage looked out to the mountain peaks where the sun set every evening.
I put my weight on the step, expecting the creak. The wood splintered. Rats scattered from underneath my boot. Jumping back, I tore my foot from the charred wood. My grandparents were nowhere to be found, phantoms fleeing to the past.
The familiar two-story house loomed over my head. Holes punctured the upper balcony. Shingles decorated the ground with faded turquoise. Curtains blew through broken windows. My heart sank at the disarray. I’d been away too long.
I rounded the house, remembering that the back door was always unlocked. That’s how Bryan had gotten in.
Two years of dating had led to the grand wedding day. I’d thought being here, at my grandparents’ cottage, would fill me with joy. But I’d only had dread. Spiraling through uncertainty about the future, I had wished for an answer. Bryan had walked in, ignoring all tradition. Taking my hand, he had said his vows for only I to hear. Doubt vanished.
Reaching the back of the house, I found the door swinging loosely on its hinges. I stepped in, remembering the white and blue flowers and decorations that had made the home an elegant venue.
All that remained were ashes.
Tears pricked my eyes. The fire had destroyed nearly every surface. Wallpaper peeled off brick. Upholstery melted at my touch. The smell of charring had left long ago, replaced by the sweet scents of pine and damp grass.
Standing in the living room, I tried to swallow my grief. My grandparents had left the little home to me, their only granddaughter. Years of memories were trapped in the walls. A priceless gift I’d carelessly destroyed. No matter how often I was told it was only an accident, I couldn’t shake what I’d done and what I’d lost.
But now, I could fix everything.
I removed my backpack and pulled out the clunky device. Knobs covered the metal cage that suspended the power source. That little orb hummed and pulsed with energy, casting strange glows on the floor.
I froze, staring at the alphabet rug.
We hadn’t planned on having kids. Not early anyway. But Jason had other ideas. I’d found out I was pregnant a few months after the wedding. Bryan and I raced to settle our finances and get everything ready for the big day. Yet all those plans got turned upside down when he had decided our vacation in the mountains was the perfect time to arrive.
The pain of today seemed to mirror that as I stared at the charred rug. Hours of screaming and cursing resulted in the perfect memory. The birth of our son Jason, his little eyes discovering a new world.
I glared at the device, pushing the memory to the back of my mind. If this was to work, I had to focus. The orb glowed faintly while I opened the stand and adjusted the knobs like Professor Bertrum had shown me. Despite building the greatest invention known to man, he feared using it.
No one should mess with time, he’d said.
But I had everything to gain if it worked. My grandparents’ home where I spent winters. The porch I got married on. The room where my son was born.
Bryan.
I swallowed the onslaught of thoughts, thinking back to that horrid night. We’d brought Jason here for the first time, his toddler legs teetering around the yard. Bryan’s family had unexpectedly arrived, meaning I had to craft a feast from thin air. I barely remembered the day. Only the fire that consumed the house late in the evening.
The hum of the orb filled the house, the air vibrating with energy. Biting my lip, I took my hands off the device. I had to envision the right point in time. Before the fire, at a moment when I could make the right choice.
Taking a deep breath, I shut my eyes and gripped the memory. And set my hands on the orb.
I blinked.
Laughter trailed through the open window. I stared at the casserole in my mitted hands, one half charred. Setting it on the counter, I glanced at the spread. An eerie sense of déjà vu hit when I scrutinized my mediocre vegetables, golden biscuits, and spicy ribs.
Everything felt off. Had I forgotten something?
Turning in place, everything seemed right in the outdated kitchen. Perhaps Bryan was right about a remodel.
My head snapped to the oven. I’d left it on.
Turning it off, the sick feeling in my stomach went away. Nevertheless, I checked every inch, ensuring I hadn’t missed anything.
“You sure you don’t need help?”
I turned, finding Bryan’s knowing smirk and rosy cheeks. He’d passed the doorway an hour earlier, yet it felt like I hadn’t seen him in a lifetime.
Rounding the counter, I grasped his calloused hands and kissed his sweaty lips. Confusion crinkled his brow while elation bubbled in my chest. “I fixed everything.”