The Surviving Trace

by Calia Read

  Edward has one. The floor is his.

  “How can we fix this, Edward?” Étienne asks.

  A caustic laugh escapes Edward. It starts out slowly and then grows until it’s echoing all around the room. He shakes his head as though Étienne’s a naïve child. “There’s nothin’ that can be done now. Can’t you see that?”

  “I’m sure we can reach an understandin’. Do you want more money? Take it. Take it and leave and I won’t tell a soul.”

  Étienne’s words earn another laugh from Edward. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you?” Abruptly, he stands. His hand shakes as he points the gun at Étienne. “No one can take back the past, no matter how badly they want to. Can’t you see that?”

  My heart is pounding so fast; I feel as though it’s only a matter of time before it bursts from my chest and sprints away. I look at Étienne, and our eyes connect. In the instant you fall in love with someone, you feel a tremor of fear because you know that this love has the potential to grow into something all-powerful. Something bigger than the both of you. You realize that you’d fight for them. Move the heavens and the earth. You’d even kill.

  It’s entirely terrifying to give yourself over to that emotion, but once you’ve had a taste of it, you can’t live without it.

  My fingers brush Étienne’s cheek. “I brought you to this point,” I whisper.

  Right then, footsteps rush down the basement steps. Edward raises his gun toward Étienne, and I know what I need to do. With shaking hands, I lift the gun near my thigh and press the cold metal against my temple. Tears stream down my cheeks and fall onto Étienne’s chest.

  My time is running out.

  My fingers curl around the trigger, but then I see the truth.

  I could end my life. I could save Étienne that way, but Edward would continue his pattern. If he doesn’t go after Étienne, his greed and jealousy will target someone else and ruin their life, and on and on it would go. And very slowly, those two destructive emotions would trickle down through the generations. I want to believe that maybe they wouldn’t, but I’ve already begun to see Edward’s traits in Bradley.

  No, the cycle stops now.

  Without a second thought, I lower the gun from my temple and, with both hands, hold it out in front of me. My hands shake as I aim it directly at Edward. I’m destroying my fate, my family, my future, my life all for the sake of love.

  But more than that, I’m killing to right a wrong. That trumps everything else.

  My eyes close as I pull the trigger and my shoulders lurch back, more out of shock than from the force of the gun. My eyes flash open as the bullet slams into Edward’s chest. He jerks back. His arms fling out, almost as though he’s calling a truce. Blood coats his pristine white shirt. As he falls backward, the gun slips from his hands.

  He’s dead. It’s all over. I drop Asa’s gun.

  And then I’m fading. I’m not falling; I’m slipping away from the room. My body, filled with muscles, blood, and bone, dissolves until I feel weightless. Étienne’s eyes shoot open.

  Am I fading away from this time? Am I dying because I’ve severed my family? Have I severed myself? I no longer know.

  Étienne reaches for me and I try to hold on to him, but it’s useless. His hand slips through me as though I’m a ghost. I want to scream that I love him. I tried to right a wrong. I did this all for him. But I know he won’t hear me.

  Like the times before, I slip through the floor. Only this time, I don’t feel searing pain. My body doesn’t feel as though it’s being torn apart. Instead, it feels weightless. I hold my hands in front of me, smiling faintly. They look so very pale.

  I’ve felt the cold hands of death twice in my life. As I close my eyes and feel air rush around my body, I know for sure what I did was right.

  “MA’AM? MA’AM? ARE you okay?”

  Ever so slowly, my eyes open. As I take in my surroundings, I gradually sit up and realize I’m sitting in the middle of the lobby of my apartment building. A man kneels next to me, his hand on my shoulder. With shaking hands, I tuck my hair behind my ears and stand. What in the hell am I doing here? I’m supposed to be dead.

  I can still hear the faint echoes of the gun going off and people shouting. The haunted look in Étienne’s eyes will stay with me forever. Just thinking about it makes my stomach churn. I swallow back the bile building in my throat and try to take a deep breath.

  There’s an eerie silence in the lobby. I glance out the front doors. Cars drive by, and people walk down the sidewalk, shopping bags in their hands. All is right in their worlds. Nothing is right in mine.

  “Ma’am? Did you hear me? Are you okay?” the man persists.

  With my arms protectively wrapped around my stomach, I give the man a feeble smile. “I’m fine. Just not feeling well. I-I think I’ll go up to my apartment and lie down.” I walk backward toward the stairs.

  The guy frowns but doesn’t say anything.

  The minute I turn the corner, I take the stairs two at a time. I need to talk to Will, Liz, my brothers, parents, anyone. This shouldn’t be happening right now.

  Once I reach my floor, I stop in front of the door of my old apartment. I know I can’t pretend everything is okay with Will and me, but this is an emergency. I need to see a familiar face. I have no phone on me, so maybe he’ll let me borrow his for a second so I can call Ian and explain where I am. Then I’ll call Liz and ask if I can stay with her for a few days. I’m sure she’ll say yes, but if she doesn’t, I can always go to the store or maybe back home until I can figure things out.

  Before my fingers curl around the knob, I glance at my attire. I’m still wearing my dress from Étienne’s time. My hem is in tatters and it looks like I escaped a murder scene. My heart quickens. Now is not the time to worry about what I’m wearing. I take a deep breath and turn the knob. The door opens only a few inches before it stops. The chain is up, refusing me entry. I frown and shove against the door as if that will make the chain magically break apart.

  “Hello?” I hesitantly say.

  There’s no reply.

  “Will?” I call, ignoring the alarm in my voice.

  The TV’s playing way too loudly. I shut the door and pound both fists against the door as hard as I can. I’m bound to attract the attention of the entire floor, but Will still doesn’t react. My fists ache, yet I continue.

  Finally, I hear the TV volume lower and someone yells, “I’m coming!”

  The second I hear his voice, I stop the obnoxious pounding and sigh with relief because he’s here. Will’s here.

  The chain slides back, and Will opens the door, a furious scowl on his face. He’s wearing sweatpants and a gray Henley with the sleeves bunched up around his elbows.

  I throw up my hands. “What the hell? Why did you put the chain on?”

  He arches a brow and gives me quick once-over. My blood turns to ice. I know that look. Hell, I’ve given that look multiple times a day on the streets. To strangers who have rudely bumped into me, or an incredibly loud person sitting behind me at a movie theater.

  “I’m sorry, you are?”

  At first, I think he’s joking, so I play along and lean against the doorframe and smile. “Oh, I don’t know. We only went to college together and until recently lived together.” When he doesn’t crack a smile, I stand up straight. “Will, it’s me. Serene.”

  “Who’s at the door?” a female voice says behind him.

  “I don’t know,” he says, sounding detached.

  Very quickly, I realize Will isn’t playing a game, and I feel as if the air is being sucked out of my lungs. This can’t be happening.

  Then to make the situation more fucked up, Liz appears behind Will, wearing his ratty Penn State sweatshirt as though it’s her own. I used to wear that sweatshirt on particularly cold mornings when I cozied up next to him on the couch as we watched TV. In stunned disbelief, I watch as Liz rests her cheek against him and curl an arm around his. The action is possessive and intimate
and something I’ve never seen Liz do with Will.

  But it’s happening right in front of me in real time.

  Their body language makes it clear—they’re a couple.

  Am I in the fucking twilight zone? Is the world playing a giant prank on me, or is this all one huge nightmare I can’t seem to wake up from?

  I try to barge into the apartment with my shoulder but Will stops me. My eyes veer between the two of them. “Are you guys being serious right now? It’s me. Serene.”

  My voice trembles when I say my name. I’m desperate for one of them to crack a smile and burst into laughter before they explain they’re just playing around with me.

  That never happens.

  Liz gives me a look of fear before she disappears from the doorway. Will looks at me with pity in eyes—the look people reserve for someone who is completely fucking crazy.

  Slowly, he shuts the door on my face, but not before I hear him say, “Lady, I have no idea who you are.”

  The door clicks shut. I hear the tell-tale sound of the lock sliding into place.

  I don’t know what to do, where to go, or how to get in contact with my family. Do they even live in McLean anymore? Do I have brothers or the same set of parents? Is my last name even Parow?

  Numbly, I walk back down the stairs and toward the lobby. When I step outside, my gaze goes to where Past Repeat is. But it’s not there. The shop I worked so hard to build with my best friend is gone. Poof… just like that.

  My legs give out, and I slide down the cold brick wall, resting my back against my former apartment building. Drawing my knees up toward my chest, I close my eyes and try to take a deep breath.

  What have I done?

  Nearly eight weeks ago, my life was perfect.

  I thought everything I could ever want was at my fingertips. Funny how in an instant, everything can change. Now my life is in shambles. I don’t know what’s up or down. I suppose I should consider myself lucky to be alive. And I guess I am. It’s impossible to think about anything clearly when I’m being tugged from one time to the next.

  I want to break down. I want to give up, but if I do, I’m abandoning Étienne. That isn’t an option, because we are the past, present, and future.

  We are unfinished business. A story that is never-ending.

  The world will never stop tearing us apart, but there will always be a surviving trace between us.

  “WEAK IS THE man who hurts a woman.”

  Those words changed my life. Those words have haunted me since the moment I heard them. They greeted me in the morning. When I lay down each night, they welcomed me with open arms and dared me to question how my life had come to this point. They trailed after me during the day, becoming my shadow.

  Those words have supervened my routine, and they wouldn’t stop until they had an answer.

  The woman I spoke to at the dinner party? I think about her frequently and what she would think of what I’m doing now. She had the kind of confidence that demands to be seen. She said things I wouldn’t dare dream, let alone speak. Later on, I found out her name was Serene Lacroix.

  Physically, I’m petite. Emotionally, I’m the same. My soul is small, so my thoughts had to be the same. I tended to follow others because the world scared me; it’s such a cruel, cruel place.

  But at last I was brave, and I left. People pay me no mind. That’s what made going so effortless.

  My heart was drumming as I gripped my suitcase early yesterday morning. I had no idea what my next steps would be. I was just relieved to have made it this far. Procuring a ticket was harder than I anticipated. For anyone traveling abroad, Charleston is a small port. Especially compared to New York, Baltimore, and New Orleans. No ocean liners would be sailing out shortly. But with the help of Asa Calhoun, I obtained a ticket for the RMS Beresford. It’s leaving from New Orleans and arriving in Liverpool.

  Acquiring a train ticket to New Orleans was a race against time, but Asa somehow managed. Asa even traveled with me to New Orleans, and he paid for a room for me at the St. Charles Hotel. He doubled-checked that I knew where to go on the boat and how to protect myself if need be. I reassured him I would be okay. But when he handed me a pistol and told me to use it, I hid it in my luggage, scared just looking at it.

  Asa is a good man. He conceals that part of his soul beneath layers of confidence and charm. In a perfect world, I would be with someone like him. Someone who would genuinely protect me. But I come from nothing, and he’s part of the Charleston elite. We would never do.

  He’s better than Edward, although I didn’t know that at first. If only I could go back in time and warn myself. I would steer clear of Edward’s path and never look in his direction. I met him over a year ago at a party at Asa’s home. We were placed across from each other during dinner. He appeared shy and reserved, rarely spoke unless spoken to. I saw him sneak glances at me, and I found his reticence endearing, almost alluring. I wanted to find out more about this secretive man.

  That night, I never got the chance. The next morning, I received flowers from him. Thus began our correspondence. We started spending time together during dinner parties, then alone at his house, and soon I found myself moving into his home. I knew my family back in England would be ashamed. I was living in sin.

  Sin, sin, sin.

  But I loved Edward. I heard whispers that Edward was speaking to some woman from Virginia. Multiple sources told me her name was Clara Beckett. How they met wasn’t of importance to me. I reminded myself that I loved Edward so much that sooner than later, he would forget all about this Clara woman and stay with me.

  For the first time in a long time, I felt comfortable. And that’s when the problems arose. Edward’s anger isn’t a beast that bursts out in the middle of the night. It doesn’t appear during bouts of rage. In fact, I’m not even sure Edward realizes when his wrath takes over his body.

  The first time it happened, I told him I wanted to see some friends and I would be back later. He was working on accounting books for Étienne’s company and told me no. I asked him to come along. Calmly, he stood and walked toward me.

  His eyes were blank, his composure calm. When he reached me, he stared at me for a long second, then he slapped me.

  The abuse grew from there. So did the control.

  One time he choked me. I was convinced I was going to die, but at the very last second, he released me and stood up. He tucked his shirt back into his pants and told me never to disobey him again.

  The night I met Serene, I was crying because Edward was upset that I had danced with Asa. I knew there would be hell to pay, and I was right. That night, he raped me.

  That night, I knew I needed to get out and leave Edward, but who would believe me? I was a mistress. Edward paid for everything I asked for. As far as everyone was concerned, I asked for it. But Serene’s words wouldn’t stop haunting me. I knew she was right. I knew I had to tell someone about the real Edward, or I would become deranged from the truth.

  I told Asa, the most practical, sensible man I knew. And he believed me. That was over a month ago. The steps it took to get here to New Orleans weren’t easy. Everything had to be done in secret. So no one would be the wiser, he would sometimes meet with me in the morning, making him run late to work. There were a lot of notes moved back and forth between his servants.

  Edward, he never noticed. That tends to happen when you are presumptuous and cavalier. He never realized that everything was falling apart around him.

  “Emmeline, you are gonna be safe now, okay?” Asa said as we drove toward the port.

  Nervously, I glance at him from the corner of my eye. Asa hasn’t made eye contact with me since we got into the car. In fact, he hasn’t looked at me since we arrived in New Orleans.

  “There’s something else you need to know,” he says.

  Patiently, I wait for him to continue.

  His left hand, resting on his knee, curls into a fist. “Edward’s dead.”

  My head whips in his
direction. Asa continues to stare out the window. His face is emotionless.

  “What did you say?”

  His jaw clenches, and he slowly faces me. “The day I was late to picking you up to take you to New Orleans?”

  I nod, my heart racing.

  Asa stares at his hands. “I was with Étienne and… we were at Belgrave and had an altercation. He shot Étienne, and I shot Edward in self-defense.”

  My mouth hangs open and I stare at Asa in shock. I don’t know whether to feel profound relief or sadness. Edward did have goodness in him; it was just covered by so much darkness. At this point, I think it’d be impossible to find that goodness.

  I’m silent for so long, Asa nervously glances at me. “What are you thinkin’?”

  I swallow. “Honestly? I don’t know. Should I be happy, sad?”

  Twisting in his seat to face me, Asa grabs my hands. “You don’t have to feel anything. You just need to focus on one thing—protecting yourself. Edward may be dead, but Charleston isn’t a safe place for you right now. Okay?”

  Anxiously, I nod, and he drops my hands. I almost protest because it felt good to hold on to someone and know they wouldn’t hurt me.

  “How is Étienne?” Tilting my head, I try to get a better look at Asa. “How are you?”

  “The bullet hit Étienne in the shoulder, but he’s okay. Right now, he’s healing. And I’m fine.”

  He doesn’t seem fine. But I suppose that’s to be expected when you steal a man’s life. Even if it’s in self-defense, what he experienced had to be traumatizing. I lace my shaking fingers and try to process everything he’s told me. The traffic is becoming thicker. The sidewalks are busier. I can see the port and the massive ships to my left.

  Our conversation is coming to a close. My heart races. “What about Johnathan?”

  While Asa helped me obtain a ticket, he divulged he had suspicions that Edward was embezzling money from Étienne’s company and that Edward was getting help from Johnathan Whalen.

  Asa snorts. “After what happened to Edward, I don’t think he’ll be stickin’ around Charleston much longer.”