The Secret World of Ophelia Fontaine

Part Seven - Timeless friends

A loud hoorah sounded from behind the bar as the proprietor of the tavern broke the awkwardness by welcoming Lady Fae in a thick Irish brogue. He helped her down and gave her a warm hug. "How are ye, young one? It has been a few weeks since yer last visit, eh?"

Ophelia giggled at the old Irish lout, playfully petting his bright red whiskers. "My apologies, Mr. Gallagher. It is not wise to travel so much into one's history, am I not right?"

"Ah! Foolish words for one so wise! But, aye, I guess no'," he muttered, scratching the back of his head.

"How is Abby?" Ophelia asked, the teasing glint fading from her eyes. "Has she recovered?"

Seamus Gallagher's smile faded as well at the mention of their mutual friend. "She is getting better, but she needs a little more time. But there is something that you must know, Fae. Something that I don't think ye are goin' ter like too much."

Just then, Theo leaned over the bar and slapped the hard wood with his palm. "Lady Fae, my dear! I fear our guest may have lost his tongue, or his mind, whichever you wish to call it! You have some explaining to do, am I right?"

Ophelia bestowed a brief glare in Theo's direction before returning her apologetic eyes to Seamus. "We will talk soon, Mr. Gallagher. I have brought along a novice and must attend to him before he makes a fool of himself."

The Irish barkeep nodded his head, accepting the promise, then turned to slake the thirsts of his newest patrons. Ophelia ducked to pass through an opening beneath the countertop on the far side and made her way to the window closest to the door. Darien stood there, staring at the window with his arms still crossed, his expression tight with inner turmoil. She didn't dare to touch him, for he would become startled. So she carefully traipsed along the wall, visible within his peripheral, and came to a slow halt at his side.

"Welcome to Gallagher's Irish Pub," she said in a somewhat jovial tone. An uncertain tone.

"These windows were not here before," he muttered, reaching out to touch the glass plains, but not daring to touch them. "This place was hidden behind a solid wall, with a bookstore as a false front. Now it is open for all to see, and what I am seeing out this window is...I don't know. Impossible comes to mind, though."

"That was my thought, precisely, when I first discovered it," she said, shifting her gaze from her novice companion to the window. Beyond its transparent panes, she watched the outside world. A world long gone, but never forgotten.

Parading along the damp cobblestone streets, horses pulled along wagons and carriages of distinct variances. Hardened men walked about with purpose and an intent to survive in a world that took them for granted. Women hurried about with armfuls of linen while their children chased each other through precarious streets. It was a dismal site, but nevertheless an incredible one.

"This can't be real," Darien whispered on an exhaled breath.

"Oh, it is real, sir," she professed, taking in his disbelieving expression out of the corner of a sidelong glance. "This is New York City, but in the year 1876."