Page 59 of The Book of Lost Hours

She shushed him before he could speak. Whatever he was going to say, she knew that hearing it would only make this harder.

She waited for him to drift off again. When his breathing evened out and the hum of his dreams began, she did what needed to be done.

Erased his argument with Jack. Removed the name Lisavet Levy once again, hopefully for the last time.

She got rid of the entirety of that evening as well, knowing it would only lead to more questions if she left it there.

When she was finished, she slid out of bed and dressed silently.

She was on her way to Amelia’s room to clear her visit from her mind as well when a little voice stopped her in her tracks.

“What are you doing?”

Amelia stood at the end of the hall, rubbing her sleepy eyes with one hand. Moira pressed a finger to her lips.

“Just going home,” she whispered as softly as she could. “Your father is sleeping.”

Amelia frowned at her. “He’s not my dad. He’s my uncle.”

“Right. Go back to sleep.”

“Will you make me some tea first?”

“What?”

“To sleep. Uncle Ernest always makes me tea.”

Moira hesitated.

“I can wake him up if you don’t want to.”

“No, no,” Moira said at once. “I’ll do it. Why don’t you go back to bed? I’ll bring it to you.”

“Two cups.”

“Huh?”

“Make two. He always drinks one with me.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Amelia returned to her room and Moira went to the kitchen.

Her hands shook as she prepared two cups of tea with milk and honey as quietly as possible.

She took them to Amelia’s room, pausing in the doorway to collect herself.

The girl was sitting up in bed, propped against her pillows waiting.

Her room in Ernest’s DC apartment doubled as a guest room and looked far too formal for a little girl.

Amelia’s schoolbooks sat on top of the wardrobe, along with several volumes of poetry Moira recognized as the same ones Ernest had brought her in the time space.

Something tugged at the center of her chest as she thought of her daughter reading those poems, turning the same pages she had once held dear.

She handed Amelia the mug of tea. Amelia sipped at it, eyeing her over the brim of the cup.

“Is it okay?” Moira asked.

Amelia nodded. “You make it like he does.”

Moira took a sip of her own tea, feeling the tug in her chest intensify.

“You don’t like it?” Amelia asked, noticing her expression and assuming it had something to do with the tea.

“I think I added too much sugar,” Moira said. She had never particularly cared for tea. It reminded her too much of her mother. But now, whenever she drank it, she knew she would be reminded of this night too. The realization left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Are you sure you’re not a spy?” Amelia asked, frowning slightly.

Moira suppressed a smile. “Why do you think I’m a spy?”

“You look like one. And my uncle said you work with him.”

“And you think your uncle is a spy?”

“No. I know he is,” Amelia insisted. “He said he works for the State Department but is never very specific.”

Moira smiled at that. She was surprisingly perceptive for a nine-year-old. “Go to sleep, Amelia.”

The girl let out a huff and finished her tea.

She nestled down into the blankets, giving Moira one final suspicious stare.

She dropped off to sleep quickly as children often do.

Moira held very still, listening to the soft sounds of her breathing.

She studied her sleeping face, every inch of it reminding her of either Ernest or herself.

Just when she could stand it no longer, the subtle whisper of passing dreams picked up.

Moira reached out and touched Amelia’s face, gently pulling loose the memories of her visit.

In a moment of weakness, she bent down to kiss Amelia on the forehead before leaving the room.

She diligently washed the empty teacups in the kitchen, along with the mugs from their coffee.

Leaving no trace that she’d ever been there at all.

T HE NEXT day, Jack called her into his office first thing.

“Did you do what I asked?”

“Yes,” she said, keeping her voice flat.

“Good. Good. And did you tell him about New York?”

Moira paused for a beat. “I did but…”

“But…?”

“He and I got into a bit of an argument. I ended up erasing the whole evening from his memory.”

“An argument?”

“Yes,” Moira said, barreling past his question in hopes that he wouldn’t pry into the substance of their argument.

“Okay,” Jack said slowly. “Tell him again soon, all right? Today, maybe. He’s only coming in for one meeting before he takes the kid to the museum or something.”

Moira nodded and said nothing.

Ernest came in with Amelia at half past eight.

He was smiling and alert. He waved at Jack as if nothing had happened between them.

Shelley stared at him in confusion as he dropped his things off in his office.

He lifted Amelia up and placed her in his desk chair, ruffling her hair, and then called out to Moira.

“Moira,” he said, waving her over. “Come in here for a second. I want you to meet Amelia.”

Moira stood, composing her face into the cheerful grin she had practiced. This time, she was more prepared.

“Amelia,” Ernest said. “This is Miss Donnelly. We work together. She…”

“I thought her name was Moira,” Amelia said.

Moira could have sworn her pulse stopped.

“What?” Ernest asked.

“I already know her,” Amelia said impatiently. “You said her name was Moira.”

“How do you already know her, Amelia?” Ernest asked.

Amelia let out a little huff of annoyance. “From last night?”

Moira felt her chest tighten. She had removed the memories. She was certain she had. Her eyes flitted to Jack’s office. He had moved around his desk and was now sitting on the edge of it, listening intently.

Ernest frowned. “Last night?”

“Yeah. She’s your girlfriend. Or at least I think she is, even if you won’t admit it.”

Moira let out a nervous laugh. “You must be thinking of someone else. Your uncle’s other girlfriend, maybe.”

Amelia made an indignant face at her. “Nuh-uh, it was you. You made me tea.”

Ernest turned to look at her. “Tea?”

“Ernest,” Jack said, cutting in. He came to stand at Moira’s elbow, tapping his fingers against the doorframe. “You’ve got that meeting, don’t forget.”

“I know, just give me one…”

“Now,” Jack said.

Ernest glared at him in annoyance. He cast one more doubtful look at Moira and then told Amelia he’d be back in an hour. In his absence, Jack sauntered into the office, his eyes fixed intently on the little girl. Moira felt panic brewing in her chest.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jack said, kneeling with both hands on the arms of the chair Amelia sat in, effectively boxing her into it. “Did you say you met her last night?”

“Yes,” Amelia said. “She was at our apartment.”

“Ahhh, okay. Well, I need you to do me a favor and don’t tell your uncle she was there, all right?”

“But he saw her there.”

“I know, but we can’t talk about it, okay?”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Jack paused to think.

Amelia made an effort to squirm away from him, but he kept both hands locked on the chair.

Moira desperately wanted to pull him away from her.

To pick Amelia up and take her far, far away from him.

Why had Ernest brought her here? Didn’t he know that their boss was not someone their daughter should ever, ever be around?

“Because she was there to set up a surprise for your uncle,” Jack said at last.

“For his birthday?”

“Exactly, for his birthday. That’s soon, right? Moira, it’s soon?”

“In July,” she and Amelia said simultaneously.

Jack nodded. “That’s right. We’re throwing him a surprise party in a couple weeks and Moira here had to come in and see what sort of cake he likes. But to keep him from figuring it out, she had to give him a special potion to make him forget.”

“A potion?” Amelia asked, raising an eyebrow. She was too old to believe in such things. Too much the realist.

“Like the kind that spies use,” Moira chimed in.

“A spy potion?” Amelia repeated. “Like a secret serum?” That she was slightly more prone to believing.

“Yes, a spy serum,” Jack said. “So he doesn’t remember anything, and you can’t tell him, or it will ruin the surprise, okay?”

Amelia chewed her lip, contemplating this. Her wide, skeptical eyes surveyed first Moira and then Jack.

“Okay,” she said at last.

“Attagirl,” Jack said, chucking her under the chin.

Amelia slapped his hand away.

Jack chuckled at her and stood up, beckoning Moira back into his office.

“Little brat,” he muttered as he shut the door. “Why didn’t you take care of that while you were there?”

“I did,” Moira said without thinking.

“Then why does she still remember?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, you must have made a mistake.”

“No, I don’t think so. I was certain that I…” Moira stopped talking.

She hadn’t made a mistake, she knew she hadn’t.

Something else was going on. What if Amelia was as untethered as she was?

Azrael’s words were in her head. No one has ever done what you’re doing…

You might be untethering her from Time the same way you are.

Immune to the constraints of the temporal world.

Immune to her mother’s ability to alter and bend Time. Perhaps even able to do the same.

Jack had begun looking at her strangely in her silence. “Moira…” he said slowly. “Tell me why the girl remembers.”

Moira stoically fixed her features, trying to conceal her internal panic. But even before she started talking, she knew he knew she was lying.

“You know what, it’s my mistake,” she said, shaking her head. “I forgot she saw me when I first came in last night, and only erased our conversation as I was leaving. That’s my fault.”

Jack pursed his lips. He looked at her and she at him. He didn’t buy it. She could tell he didn’t but she held her breath, hoping that he might decide to.