Forever in My Heart: The Pocket Watch Chronicles Page 3

  He chuckled. “My mother would be pleased to hear ye say that.”

  She canted her head. “Why?”

  “Because when I was a lad, she’d ask, ‘What matters most?’ The answer she was looking for was, ‘Kindness.’ Then she’d ask, ‘And what never helps?’ The answer to that one was, ‘Panicking.’”

  “I like that. I think I’ll teach it to Katie.”

  Robbie had grown bored with his spoons and started to crawl towards the stove. Jock scooped him up. “Nay, laddie. How ‘bout ye bounce here on my knee while mama finishes the porridge.”

  She just stared. The old Jock wouldn’t have moved a finger and would probably have said, “If he burns himself, he’ll learn not to do it again.” But this man had the instincts of a loving father. Then a thought occurred to her. “Do ye have children of yer own? Ye’re very good with them.”

  He chuckled. “Nay. I’m not married. When I was eight, my mother had twins—Dennis and Deborah. She needed the help and I liked being a big brother.”

  For some reason she was pleased to learn he wasn’t married.

  “Mama,” came a little voice from the door to the bedroom.

  She gave her daughter a warm smile. “Good morning, Katie. Are ye ready for breakfast?”

  “I just need help with my buttons.” Then her little brow furrowed when she saw Jock holding Robbie. Clearly, even she could recognize that this was out of the ordinary. “Mama, I can mind Robbie if ye want.”

  “Ye’re such a sweet lass, but ye needn’t this morning.” Seeing her daughter’s frown only deepen, Mary added, “It’s all right. Yer da is…different now. He won’t ever hurt ye or Robbie. Come sit at the table.”

  Mary ladled up the porridge into three bowls, added milk to them and put them on the table with spoons. She reached her hands towards Robbie. “I’ll take the little man now, and he can have some of my porridge.” Under her breath she added, “We should probably not talk about the future in front of Katie. It’s surprising how many things she picks up just by listening.”

  He grinned. “Good point. They can be sponges.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. Mary wasn’t exactly sure what to say since she couldn’t ask him any questions. Daylight was growing a little brighter. “It looks like we might actually have a fine bright day today. They’re rare enough.”

  “Mama, is today Sunday?” asked Katie.

  “Aye, it is.”

  “Since the weather is good will we go to church?”

  Mary glanced at Jock. He gave a little nod.

  “Aye, sweetie, we will. And yer da will come with us today.”

  “He will?” Katie glanced sideways at Jock and then back to her mother.

  “Aye, I will, Katie. We’re starting off on a new foot today.”

  She looked down. “But I only have these two.”

  Mary laughed. “Yer da means, we’re going to do things differently from now on. Starting with us all going to church together.”

  “I believe ye, thousands wouldn’t,” muttered Katie.

  Mary’s jaw dropped. “Katie, where on earth did ye hear that?”

  “I heard Mrs. MacClennan say it to the fishmonger.”

  “Well, ye mustn’t say it.”

  Jock laughed. “It is rather impressive that she knew the correct circumstances for it.”

  “Don’t encourage her.” Mary knew her smile belied the sternness of her tone.

  “Nevertheless, Katie, things are going to be different. I promise. After church we’ll have a little walk around the village together.”

  “We will?” Mary wasn’t expecting that.

  “Aye. I was thinking I’d like to see the village through fresh eyes.”

  “I thought we were starting with new feet,” said Katie.

  Jock grinned. “New feet, new eyes, a whole fresh start.”

  As they were getting ready to go to church, Jock pulled Mary aside. “One of the reasons I want to have a walk around is to get my bearings. Govan has changed quite a lot. But I also thought, if we see any of the men I work with, ye could tell me who they are. I might be able to learn enough to get by in the shipyard if I at least know a few names and faces.”

  She nodded. “That’s a brilliant idea.”

  He grinned at her. “I’m glad ye think so. My only other idea was to have ye give me a wee whack on the head and then I’d tell everyone I’d lost my memories. But I’d rather avoid that if possible.”

  Chapter 3

  Mary tried not to notice the stares of friends and acquaintances when she entered the church with Jock by her side. It was the first time, since the day they were married, that he’d stepped foot inside a house of worship. One would think he didn’t believe in God, but that wasn’t the case. Quite the contrary, not only did he believe in God, he blamed God for all the ills that had befallen him. He’d say, “I’ll not worship a God who thinks so little of me.” Somehow Jock could never recognize the blessings they’d been given, or how his own choices contributed to the terrible circumstances of their life.

  The Jock at her side now, kneeled and prayed earnestly. Using his handkerchief he entertained Robbie with a quiet game of peek-a-boo. When Robbie grew bored, he tied several knots in the same handkerchief creating a little doll for Katie to play with.

  If the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, the quickest way to a mother’s heart is through her children. She thought she had loved Jock when she married him. In reality what she’d fallen in love with was the dreams he had spun. As they fell to dust, so did her love. But in less than a day, this Jock, her new Jock, was becoming very dear to her. She wasn’t ready to call it love, but the feeling was strong and warm and oh, so welcome.

  After church was over, as people were leaving the pews, she surreptitiously pointed out several men who worked as laborers with Jock, telling him everything she could remember about each one. With Robbie in her arms she could tuck her head down as if she were talking to the bairn.

  Things went very well until they were outside the church and a man yelled, “Jock Campbell. I’ve never seen ye darken these doors.”

  They both turned towards the voice.

  Katie stepped closer, burying her face against Mary’s legs.

  Mary stifled a gasp then whispered. “That’s yer boss. Martin Stone.”

  Without missing a beat, Jock said, “Good morning, Mr. Stone. I…uh…made some decisions last night.”

  “Really? That’s a bit hard to believe. When I saw ye last night, yer were stumbling drunk.”

  Jock nodded. “Yes, sir. I was. So drunk that I slipped on some ice just outside my house, and whacked the back of my head but good—I passed out. My wife found me and managed to get me into the house. I would have frozen to death had I laid there much longer. As I sobered up, I realized what a blessing I had been given in her. She doesn’t deserve to be married to a drunkard.”

  Mary listened as Jock wove the tale, trying not to reveal that she was hearing it for the first time. It was simple, believable and brilliant. The back of his head was always covered by his hat. No one would know he hadn’t cracked his skull. And he could use the injury to explain away any odd behavior.

  Mr. Stone frowned. “Am I hearing ye right? Ye’re giving up the drink?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mr. Stone canted his head slightly, looking intently at Jock for several long moments. “That will be hard to do.”

  “Yes, sir. But I’m determined.”

  Mr. Stone nodded. “Good. I was determined once too and it changed my life. Keep at it.”

  “Yes, sir. Have a good day.”

  “You too, Jock. Mary.”

  Mr. Stone turned and walked away.

  “Did you just come up with that?” whispered Mary.

  Jock chuckled. “Aye.”

  “I think Mr. Stone was impressed.”

  “I hope so.” Jock took Robbie from her. “I’ll carry the little man while we stroll around Govan.”


  She took Katie’s hand. “Let’s go, then.”

  As they walked to the center of the little town she asked quietly, “Has it changed much?”

  He nodded. “It some ways. But the main streets are still there and a few of the buildings remain.”

  As they walked along, Jock stopped in front of one shop. “I can’t believe it. Grant and Sons’ is here. I knew it was an old bookstore, but…wow.” He stared in awe at the books in the window. “Melville. Hawthorne. Dickens. I love these books.”

  Mary sighed. “I wish I could read.”

  “Ye can’t?”

  “Neither of my parents could read. By the time we came to Govan, where there were schools, I was too old and I needed to help support the family.”

  “I can teach ye.”

  “Truly?” Learn to read? She’d never dreamed it possible. “I would love to learn.”

  “I wonder if Grant and Son’s has a lending library. Some bookstores do.”

  A man who had been walking toward them stopped. “Did ye ask about a lending library?”

  “Aye.” Jock had a very hopeful expression on his face. “Some of the bookstores in Glasgow do.”

  “I know. We don’t yet, but I think I have my father convinced that it will be good for business in the long term.”

  “Yer father?” asked Jock.

  “Aye, I’m one of the sons in Grant and Sons’. I’m Hamish Grant.”

  Jock shook his hand. “Very nice to meet ye. I’m…uh…I’m Jock Campbell.”

  Mary guessed that he’d almost said his real name.

  “And this is my wife Mary, and our children Robbie and Katie.”

  Mary nodded. “Pleased to meet ye.”

  Hamish gave a little bow. “The pleasure is mine.”

  Jock gestured to the window. “I can’t afford to buy any of these amazing books, but I sure would love to borrow one.”

  “Amazing books? Ye’ve read some of them?”

  “I’ve read most of them. Several times each.”

  Hamish looked thoughtful for a moment before asking, “Ye can read and write and do sums?”

  “Aye, I can.”

  “Do ye have any experience working in a shop?”

  “Nay…not here anyway.”

  “Let’s step inside, out of the cold.” Hamish unlocked the door and ushered them in.

  Jock took a deep breath. “I love the scent of a bookstore.”

  Hamish laughed. “I do too. Particularly this one.”

  “Why this one?” asked Mary.

  “Well, my father opened his first store many years ago, in Glasgow. As the shop became successful he opened others. He hired managers for each store but when he opened this one, he gave it to me to manage. Eventually he gave my two younger brothers stores to run as well.”

  “I can see why it’s important to ye, then,” said Jock.

  “Sadly, my father passed away last year and the oversight of all of the stores fell to me. There just simply isn’t enough time in the day to do it all. I need to follow my father’s example and find a manager for this store. I’ve posted some ads and had several responses, but…” he shook his head, “It’s too ridiculous to say.”

  “Ye don’t want to have just anyone care for yer baby,” said Mary.

  He looked a little surprised. “Aye. That’s exactly it. It isn’t that the men who’ve applied didn’t have adequate skills. It’s just that they look on this as simply a job. Even if they might have read some of the books, they don’t love them as I do. For those men, it’s just a shop.”

  “That’s unfortunate,” said Jock.

  “Ye are the kind of man I want running this store. Ye obviously love the books. Ye have the skills. Where do ye work now?”

  “Me? The shipyards.”

  “MacInnes Shipyard,” added Mary.

  “As a clerk?”

  “Nay. I’m a laborer. It was the only work available to me when I arrived. I never imagined that doing something like this would be possible.”

  Mary smiled at the interesting choice of words. The statement was absolutely true, but he’d arrived yesterday.

  “Most of our store managers make two pounds a week. Because ye have no experience, I’m willing to offer ye one pound ten a week. If ye learn quickly and do well, I’ll increase that.”

  A pound ten? Had she heard that right?

  “That seems very fair,” said Jock evenly. Although her own shock at the princely sum was mirrored in his eyes. “May I borrow books, if I’m careful with them?”

  “Of course. In fact, I have used books in the back of the store that I have purchased at estate sales. Do ye think ye could set up a lending library?”

  “Absolutely. To be honest, if we nurture a love of reading—especially in children—we will be growing our own future customers.”

  “I’d never thought of it that way,” said Hamish.

  “Another thing that I’d love to do, if ye’ll allow it, is change the window display. To me, these books are beautiful and enticing, but I’m an adult. If I want to buy a book, I go to the bookstore regardless of what’s in the window. But if the window display is enticing to children, adults may choose to buy a book instead of a toy.”

  “That’s brilliant. Another way to grow future customers. Then too, once inside the store, maybe the parent will choose a book for themselves. What will ye need?”

  “I’m sure you have copies of A Visit from St. Nicholas as well as other children’s books.”

  “Of course.”

  “If I had a big sack, I could make it look like Father Christmas’s bag of toys but it will have books in it. Some Christmas ribbon and a doll or a stuffed animal would be good to have. Do you have children?”

  “I do. I’ll bring the things ye need tomorrow. Be here at eight.”

  A broad grin spread across Jock’s face. “I certainly will. Thank ye for the opportunity, Mr. Grant.”

  “Ye’re very welcome.”

  Mr. Grant bent down to Katie. “Ye’ve been a very good girl.”

  She smiled shyly.

  “Wait here, I have something for ye.”

  Mary looked at Jock, who shrugged.

  Mr. Grant was back in no time, holding his hands behind his back. “Since yer da loves books so much, I’m certain he’ll read this to ye.” He pulled one hand out, and offered Katie a beautiful book, with a picture of Father Christmas on the cover. “This is for ye, young lady.”

  She was in awe. “Thank ye.”

  “Ye’re welcome. And ye have very nice manners.”

  Then he turned to Mary. “And this is for ye.” He held a book out to her.

  “A Christmas Carol, by Dickens,” said Jock, with as much awe as Katie had shown.

  Mary took it, running her hands over the beautiful cover. “Thank ye. I’ll treasure this.” She had no doubt about that. Even if she wasn’t able to learn to read before Jock—her new Jock—returned to his own time, this book would always remind her of him.

  Mr. Grant smiled broadly. “Ye’re also most welcome. I overheard someone once say that the universe unfolds as it should. I never quite understood what that meant. Now I do. I make it a rule never to come into work on a Sunday, but I have so much to do, I simply had to today. Had I not, we wouldn’t have met, and I’d still have no one to manage this shop.”

  Jock nodded. “I’ve heard the same thing. And had we not decided to take a stroll after church…well, I’m just glad we did.”

  “As am I,” said Mr. Grant. “I’ll see ye in the morning.”

  “Yes, sir. And thank ye again.”

  ~ * ~

  That evening was perhaps the most wonderful of her life so far. Partially this was because of absolutely ordinary things. Her new Jock tended the fire in the stove and fetched water from the village pump—that he insisted on boiling before they used it. He even emptied the chamber pot and changed Robbie’s nappies. But he also played with the children. Katie asked him to read, A Visit from St. Nicholas so
many times, Mary almost had it memorized.

  After the children were tucked into bed, he picked up the book Mr. Grant had given her. He opened it, handling it as if it were a great treasure. “This is extraordinary.”

  “It’s a story ye like?”

  “It’s one of my favorites, and perhaps the reason I’m here.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “Last night, when I told ye about the watch, I said I had been in the city center to buy some Christmas presents. I was having lunch in a pub when Gertrude asked to join me.”

  “Aye, I remember.”

  “Well initially we just talked about inconsequential things. She asked if I had found what I was looking for while shopping. I told her that I still needed to pick up a few things, but I had my father’s gift. It wasn’t exactly what I had wanted, but I was happy with it.”

  “What had ye been looking for, and what did ye get?”

  He chuckled and motioned to the book. “This.”

  “You bought him a book?”

  “I bought him this book—A Christmas Carol.”

  “It’s still for sale in the future?”

  “It certainly is. It’s a classic, and my dad loves it. He used to read it aloud to us at least once every Christmas season. Then a few years ago, I told him I was too old to be read to and if I wanted to read something, I could read it myself. So that year he read it to Mum and the twins while I was off doing something else. And that was the last year he read it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the following summer, Dennis and Deborah died of a very serious illness called polio. Christmas that year was painful. Dad never took his copy of A Christmas Carol off the shelf. Caught up in my own aching loss, I didn’t even notice. It’s been a few years now and I realize how important that tradition was and how much I miss it. I think he does too. I saw him reading it last year. I wanted to hear him read it again, but I didn’t know how to ask. So I thought giving it to him as a gift might open the door.”

  “But he doesn’t need it. He has a copy. Why not just ask?”

  “It’s a little complicated. And I wasn’t looking for just any copy. I wanted a first edition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a copy of the very first version of a book.”