The Watchmaker's Doctor ✔️

XIII

2001, Seventeen Years Backwards

When she left Emberswick, Anaya's heart had felt like a lead brick sinking to the bottom of a deep well. Knowing the future had become an oppressive burden. On the one hand, she needed to save herself from regret and a meaningless existence. On the other, she'd seen what bipolar could do to her father. And Kait's rejection from college and past-life death were additional punches in the gut.

Anaya had resolved to stay with her parents and watch over her dad, in a way that only she could. But she prayed fervently, to whomever was listening, that Kait's change of direction would keep her safe, and from killing herself.

Beads of sweat sparkled on Anaya's forehead as she hooked her thumbs in the belt loops of her denim cut-off shorts and revolved in a slow three-sixty. Determined to finish setting up her room in their new house this weekend, she'd channeled all her turmoil into productive, hard labor.

Satisfied at last, she flip-flopped through the kitchen, grabbed a glass and retrieved the fresh pitcher of lemonade from the fridge. The screen door pushed forward without a sound, and she set down her refreshment, before stretching out on the porch swing. She stilled her mind by gazing at her surroundings, sipping and swaying until her body cooled down.

According to local legend, the town of Faircrest had been spat out by a volcano, shaped and formed by lava. The earth breathed life into everything that touched it. The greens were saturated with color and even the greys and browns appeared more vibrant. No straining of eyes was needed here – your vision cleared and you could see for miles unaided.

Anaya inhaled the rich scent of soil, along with the sharp, citric smell of thriving vegetation and the sweetness of fresh dew. Her eyes drifted shut and she pricked up her ears, the gushing sound of the nearby waterfalls enveloping her. No wonder the inhabitants of this town were content to be quiet, almost secretive, careful not to desecrate the harmony.

Is this karma repaying me for sticking with my family?

She'd assumed that one of her parents would have chosen their new place to live, but the instant they saw the barn, they'd known they were home. Her dad had killed the engine as soon as they'd halted outside, so as not to violate their environment. The barn had been lovingly restored into a house, painstakingly painted in the darkest tone of wheat, and accented with the purest shade of snow. Anaya's fingertips trailed over the peaks and valleys of the calligraphy on the hanging sign, introducing them to "Fairest Acre."

And so it was. Precisely an acre and abundantly fair. The inside continued to bring their outdoors in, both in build and design. Ceilings soared twenty feet high and window-lined walls brought in the view. They were made of reclaimed wood, and the fireplace from local stone, its fittings smelted by the smithy on site.

"Hey, kid." Her dad strolled in from the garden, his hair sweat-soaked and his right cheek smeared with soot.

"You're resplendent, Dad." Although her tone rang dry, her eyes danced with amusement.

"Is this a side effect of the new dosage? Remind me to ask for sarcasm to be stricken from your next therapy session."

Both father and daughter had tried different cocktails of drugs and seemed to be stabilizing on two each for maintenance and prevention. They were still monitored, via blood tests probing for toxicity. The counselling honed in on their triggers and taught self-awareness of when they slipped into depression or revved up to hypomania. The next step was to explore how to manage the signs before trouble exploded.

"So, you're sure you've discovered your calling in restoring the smithy then? Making stuff like furniture and chandeliers?" Anaya had been watching him like a spy, always choosing a good vantage point on the pretext of relaxing. She suspected that this sudden swerve in career might be a sign of internal crisis brewing.

"I don't know about a calling, but it's a great project for now. It helps keep my hands busy and my body fit, and adds to our income. Besides, how fulfilling is it to see something that you've created go out into the world and be useful to someone else?" And with that, he tousled her hair.

"And it's time for my nap!" She ducked out of his way so he couldn't cause more mane damage.

Anaya returned to her room and settled on her wrought iron bed, sinking into pillows filled with feathers taken from the geese in the yard. Dressed in florals and pastels, hers was a home that oozed ageless country charm, yet wholly synced with their surroundings.

But as she dozed, the soothing whir of the fan above spurred memories of the watch and the man who had brought her back a year ago to live her life once more.

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G.