Home > Come Back to Me (Waters of Time #1)(12)

Come Back to Me (Waters of Time #1)(12)
Author: Jody Hedlund

Her dad’s library in his terraced home was nothing compared to Harrison’s, which at one time housed over fifty thousand books. During past visits, Marian always wandered through the library looking at the built-in wall shelves with a sense of awe. Most of the books were as ancient as the house.

Harrison bent and retrieved the top book, a crusty volume with a spine curling up at the edges. “One of the spots is in Walsingham in Norfolk where there are several wells once believed to cause visions and heal illnesses. In 1061, a wealthy noblewoman by the name of Lady Richeldis de Faverches claimed the well water gave her three visions in which she saw the Virgin Mary and the house Mary lived in when the angel appeared to her in Nazareth.”

“But what does this have to do with the ampulla and the healing water?”

“It’s entirely possible one of the sacred seeds from the Tree of Life ended up in Walsingham and was eventually planted so that its life-giving properties infiltrated the ground and seeped into a natural wellspring. It would certainly explain the realistic visions as well as the many miraculous healings that occurred there.”

“Supposed healings.”

Harrison picked up another book. “The Pynson Ballad, thought to have been written in the 1460s. It documents the healings at Walsingham.” He carefully turned the brittle, yellowed pages until he reached one marked by a sticky note. Then he began to read. “Many sick have been cured, the dead revived, the lame made whole, the blind have had their sight restored. Deaf-mutes, lunatics, and lepers have all been made well. People troubled by evil spirits have experienced deliverance. Also souls suffering from inner problems have found comfort. Every human suffering, bodily or spiritual, can find a remedy here.”

Marian’s own suffering soul warred within her. She didn’t want to believe in such tales. But why would an ancient historian make it all up?

Harrison closed the book, discarded it, and rummaged through a different stack. “I know the healings sound strange, love. But everything I’ve read supports Arthur’s theory.”

If she hadn’t experienced the realistic vision for herself yesterday, she would have scoffed at Harrison. But there was a part of her now that needed to understand the intricacies of her dad’s research.

Harrison picked up the thick tome St. Thomas, His Death and Miracles and began paging through it. “This book documents the writings of two monks, Benedict of Peterborough and William of Canterbury. They recorded over seven hundred miracles between the two of them in separate documents.”

“In Canterbury?”

Harrison nodded.

“So you think the second seed from the Tree of Life ended up in Canterbury?” What was she saying? Did she believe in the seeds now too? Was she going crazy right along with Harrison and her dad?

“After Thomas Becket’s death,” Harrison said, “the monks began to sell holy water to the pilgrims. That’s when the miracles started happening.”

“What if they made up the miracles to sell more holy water?” Yes, she had faith God could intervene and perform miracles when he chose to. But she also believed too many frauds worked for their own benefit and fame just as much in the present as they had in the past.

Harrison flipped through more pages. “The accounts of the two monks are quite amazing. If they’d just wanted money, then why record hundreds when a dozen would have sufficed?”

This whole conversation was insane. “If a seed from the Tree of Life ended up in Canterbury, why wasn’t it discovered earlier? Why at Becket’s death?”

Harrison dug through the books again and pulled out another. “It’s possible that like in Walsingham, the seed somehow ended up in the ground, distributing its life-giving qualities into a nearby underground spring. Thus the wellspring in Canterbury could have been in existence long before Becket’s death.”

He opened the brittle pages to a place with a sticky note. “I found the account of St. Mildred, an abbess in 690, who was rumored to have miraculous healing powers. It’s possible she stumbled upon the Canterbury wellspring and used the water in mixing herbal remedies.”

Marian was silent, trying to digest everything Harrison had researched while she’d been sleeping. He seemed convinced the miracles recorded at Walsingham and Canterbury were somehow related to the mythical seeds from the Tree of Life.

“If there really were wellsprings that contained traces of residue from the Tree of Life, then why can’t people be healed from the springs today? After all, people still make pilgrimages to the Shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham and to Canterbury Cathedral.”

Harrison picked up his cup of tea and leaned back in his wheelchair. “I’ve made a study of that. And while I’m still a bit muddled, my guess is that things changed drastically when King Henry the VIII destroyed the holy places during his Reformation. He had the wells at Walsingham filled in completely with the rubble from the shrine. The entire place sat in disrepair for so long that perhaps the original wellspring dried up or was buried deeper in the earth so that it’s no longer readily available.”

“And the same happened to the wellspring in Canterbury?”

Harrison sipped his tea before responding. “Some say a natural spring exists beneath the crypt of the cathedral. Other speculations point to a wellspring at a priory which was a short distance away from the cathedral.”

Marian stifled a yawn, surprised to discover she was tired again. “This is all very interesting, Harrison. But you know we sound like we’re spouting nonsense from a science fiction novel, don’t you?”

Harrison nodded somewhat sheepishly. “I feel as mad as I’m sure I sound.”

She wanted to dismiss everything he’d told her as easily as she’d always tossed aside her dad’s ramblings. But she needed answers. And right now, Harrison’s propositions were certainly logical.

A gust of wind whistled in the fireplace at the same time the windowpanes rattled, startling her so that she pushed up from the mattress. Suddenly chilled, she pulled the covers up to her chin. The bedside lamp was on, but it didn’t reach the corners of the large room. Out of the corner of her eyes, she thought she saw a shadow and movement near one of the curtains, but when she looked, nothing was there.

Did she need to accept the possibility she’d had more than a hallucination or vision yesterday? That her body had spanned two eras, and she’d stood directly in the past? If her father was right about the Tree of Life, then she couldn’t overlook his speculations about breaching the time-space continuum, could she?

“I’ve been a complete cad for going on so long.” Harrison frowned, powering his wheelchair in reverse toward the bell pull on the wall. “You need nourishment. I’ll ring for the maid.”

“Harrison, tell me the truth. Do you really think the residue shifted me to another time?” The idea made her skin prickle. She peered into the corner again, expecting to see more shadows or fluttery movements. But everything was motionless.

His wheelchair tire bumped the wall. He switched off the motor before tugging on the bell pull. “Full disclosure. I’m not an expert on the physics of time and space, but from the little I’ve studied, physicists agree that time is not sequential but is simultaneous.”

“Not sequential?”

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