by Calia Read
I sadly smile. “He sounds like a great man.”
“He was.” Étienne averts his gaze. “He was.” When he looks back at me, his eyes are blank, and I know the moment is over. “Let’s keep searchin’,” Étienne suddenly says.
We pass a vintage tricycle circa 1850s. The frame is so worn and rusty, it looks close to disintegrating into thin air. I see an open parasol leaning against an old baby crib. I can’t help but roll my eyes. When I see a parasol, I think of Scarlett. And when I think of her, I think of her engagement to Étienne. I would be the biggest liar in the world if I said I never thought about Étienne almost marrying another woman. At those moments, I felt rage. It wasn’t happening so often anymore because there were more pressing matters to worry about.
But my name is Serene, and I can be petty as hell.
Sometimes, I wonder what would’ve happened between Étienne and me if he would’ve married her.
Would time still have sent him to the present day? Would I be pregnant? I choose to believe yes because any way you look at it, all roads lead back to us.
“Can I help you guys with anything?”
Étienne turns, a scowl waiting and ready on his face. Before I can tell him to lay low and let me take this one, he walks toward the register, his stride loose-hipped and confident as though he has all the time in the world. “Do you have letters datin’ back to the 1900s, preferably to 1915?”
The girl frowns slightly. “Letters?”
“Yes, ma’am. Letters. Although they can be called correspondence. Or perhaps telegrams. Do you have any telegrams?”
The intensity of his words matches the intensity in his eyes. The girl appears completely at a loss. “I-uh … I can check, but I don’t think we do.”
Then pictures. Surely, you have photos?”
Étienne determined to find answers is akin to a shark searching the deep seas for its next meal. He won’t stop until his belly is full. Hands resting on the counter, he leans his upper body forward as he waits for her answer. The girl stares wide-eyed between the two of us.
She looks like she’s going to pee her pants. Swallowing, she looks away. Her gaze flits between three things: Étienne looming in front of her, the doorstep behind him, and her cell phone. It doesn’t take me long to put the pieces together. I lean into Étienne, opening my mouth to tell him it’s time to go, when he speaks again.
“Do you have photographs here?” Étienne repeats
She swallows and straightens her shoulders. “S-sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”
“Oh, God,” I mutter beneath my breath. I place my hand on Étienne’s arm. He looks at me with confusion.
“What’s the matter with her?” he asks.
I go to answer, but the girl is dialing on the phone. What is she doing? “Let’s just go. All right?”
Without waiting for his reply, I tug on his hand and hurry out of the front door. Once we’re inside my car, I immediately start it and pull away. A sense of failure settles over the two of us. Our efforts feel futile, unimaginative, and just plain weak.
We need to think outside the box. We need to broaden our thoughts because the truth is out there. Right outside our reach. At the stoplight, I glance at Étienne, his jaw is clenched as he looks forward. “Well … that did not go as planned.”
“No, it did not,” he agrees, then pauses. “Why was the woman so upset? I asked her a simple question.”
The light turns green. I press on the gas, reluctant to see the antique store in my rearview mirror, but what other choice do I have right now? “You did,” I agree. “But some people might find your way of talking blunt.”
“I’ve always spoken in this manner. It shall not change.”
“But if you stay in this era, some things will have to change. And the same can be said about me if I stay in your time.”
Étienne doesn’t say a word. He turns and stares out the window. As we drive through the town, I look at Étienne out of the corner of my eye every few seconds. There’s anguish in his eyes that I haven’t seen in such a long time, and it hits me right then and there. He misses his home and his old life. Badly.
Right now, he’s swept up in the wonder of everything my time has to offer and the newness of my family.
Does he realize the truth? It’s hard to say. Étienne isn’t one to lay his feelings on a platter for anyone to feed on, and it’s not as if you can tell him what you suspect his state of mind is. That’d be even worse; Étienne has to figure things out for himself.
But it solidifies just how important it is for us to go back to his era.
“I think we need to discuss something important,” Étienne says, breaking the silence.
“And what’s that?” I ask, keeping my gaze on the road.
“When are we going to announce your pregnancy to your family?” Étienne asks.
I hesitate. I don’t have a problem with my family knowing about the baby, but I’m hypersensitive to anything pertaining to Étienne and me. And this pregnancy? It represents all that shouldn’t be but is.
“Tonight,” I blurt.
My eyes remain glued to the road, yet I can feel the heat of Étienne’s stare. I’m willing to lay down money he has both brows raised.
“Tonight,” he repeats.
I nod. “Yep. I’ll text my mom and see if we can come over for dinner, which I’m sure won’t be a problem. But what will be a problem is the baby news.”
“We are to be married, and although we didn’t exactly go about marriage and havin’ children in the correct order, I believe your parents will be pleased.”
“Oh, Étienne.” I sigh. “If there’s one thing my parents have in common with yours, it’s that they can be remarkably old fashioned.”
“What do you mean you’re pregnant?” my mom says at the same time Dad says, “Is this a joke? This better be a joke.”
With my index finger, I slide the sonogram picture across the kitchen island. “I mean I’m pregnant. And no, I’m not joking.”
In unison, my parents lean in. Their heads touch as they peer at the ultrasound. Seconds tick by. Étienne and I exchange a glance. Mom is the first one to lift her wide eyes our way.
“How far along are you?” she asks.
“Not long. Nine weeks.”
“Is this why the two of you are getting married? Because Serene’s pregnant?” Dad interjects.
Before either me or Étienne answers, I give him a look that screams. I told you this would be a problem.
“Absolutely not, Daniel,” Étienne replies. “I proposed to Serene before—”
“Before you knocked her up?” Dad provides.
A tense silence lingers around the four of us. Well, there’s one positive to this. At least Étienne and I waited until after dinner to break the pregnancy news.
“I will presume ‘knock her up’ is a crass phrase for becomin’ pregnant. Because you’re unsettled by the news, I’ll ignore the remark.”
Dad shrugs a shoulder. “Well, if your child’s a girl, you’ll have the chance of walking in my shoes and understanding why I’m so upset.”
Even though a very small part of me understands why my dad might be pissed, I can feel my defenses begin to rise. I don’t like them staring at Étienne as though he’s the bad guy. They have no idea what a true villain looks like. If they did, they’d be welcoming Étienne with open arms. It just goes to show you how looks can be deceiving, and although harsh and stoic, Étienne has one of the purest hearts of anyone I know. “Dad, I hate to break it to you, but I’m not as pure as the driven snow. I knew full well what I was doing. And it was Étienne’s idea to come here tonight and tell you guys the news. I was the one who wanted to wait because of this reaction.”
Dad’s face becomes pale while Mom stands beside him expressionless.
“Is there anything else you feel the need to tell us, Serene?”
Yes, I time traveled to the 19th century, found my soul mate, and you’re looking at him.
“No, that pretty much about wraps it up.”
Mom is the first to make a move and walks around the island. “As surprised as I am, I’m happy for you. A baby!” She envelops me in a hug. Reminiscent of the one she gave me when I came back to our home in McLean, Virginia, scared I would never see Étienne, or the one when I came back from the past not so long ago.
She always seems to know when I need them the most.
When she pulls away, she’s prattling on about baby registries. Something I truly haven’t given much thought to. Because will I even be around to enjoy a baby registry? The whole time, Étienne and my dad remain silent.
The conversation eventually drifts toward a different subject, but after I dropped such a big bombshell, the night was effectively ruined. Twenty minutes later, I’m feigning exhaustion, and Étienne and I are walking out the front door. Mom suggests getting together to go shopping soon. I can’t tell if it’s out of pity or if she really wants to, but either way, I agree. Not bothering to mention we haven’t set a date to wedding gown shop.
As we’re walking down the porch steps, Étienne turns to me abruptly. “I didn’t envision the conversation goin’ in that direction. I thought … I thought it would—”
“It’s fine,” I cut in. “I know what your intention was.”
Nodding, Étienne itches his brow, and the harshness around his lips and eyes hasn’t softened. He’s thinking about something.
“What’s on your mind?” I ask.
His intense green eyes stare into mine. “I don’t care for how he said the phrase ‘knocked up,’ as though bein’ intimate is all that interests me. I’m not Livingston.”
The last of his words cause me to smile.
“What’s so funny?”
I clamp my mouth shut and shrug. “You have a point. If my parents knew Livingston, they’d probably be inclined to agree with you.”
Suddenly, Étienne’s face becomes shuttered as he looks behind me. Twisting around, I see my mom standing on the porch. She gives us a tentative wave before she walks toward us. “I was hoping the two of you hadn’t left yet.”
“No, we’re getting ready to.”
The three of us stand there in silence. Honestly, after the day we had, I just want to go back to the condo and relax with Étienne, but I don’t want to say that to mom. There’s already been enough tension tonight. No need to compound matters.
Sighing, Mom looks between Étienne and me before her gaze settles on me. “Serene, can I speak with you for a moment?”
Briefly, my eyes connect with Étienne’s. He assesses me thoroughly as though making sure I’m okay to be alone. I nod and smile. “Go ahead to the car. I’ll meet you there.”
“All right, then.” He heads toward the car without a backward glance.
I face Mom, crossing my arms over my chest. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to apologize for how things ended inside the house. I know your father didn’t take the news exactly how you envisioned.”
A short laugh escapes me. “You could say that.”
Mom doesn’t laugh or smile. “Perhaps you could have eased into the conversation better. Maybe you could’ve taken your father and me aside privately without Étienne. We’re still getting to know him, and—”
I should’ve known this conversation was going to lead back to Étienne. But I have no desire to stand here and listen to it. I hang my head for a second and take a deep breath. “Look, Mom, I—”
“No, I need to say this, and then you can speak,” Mom says gently but firmly.
“All of this is very new to him. Étienne, you getting married, immediately moving in with your fiancé, and now the pregnancy. You have to admit, it’s a lot to process at once.”
I consider her words and realize she has a point. There are always two sides to every story. “Fair enough,” I concede.
“Your father should have certainly handled the news better, but he’s genuinely worried you’re taking things far too quickly with Étienne. I know you say you’ve spent time getting to know him, but the two of you are still in this honeymoon phase where everything is great and rainbows and unicorns. When life strikes, it strikes hard and fast, and it never waits for permission. I’m not sure you’re ready for what’s in store.”
I nod and wait for a few seconds to make sure she’s finished talking. When I’m sure she’s done, I place my hands on her forearms and smile softly. “Mom, you’re right on one thing. I’ve never had a baby. I can read every baby book available and still not be prepared. But I need you to know that I’m one hundred and twenty percent sure—no, two hundred percent sure that Étienne is my soul mate. I know people throw that word around all the time, but I mean it. He’s going to put up with my bullshit, keep me on my toes, always be there for me, and never stop providing for me and our baby. I know you guys have just met him, and he can be a bit standoffish, but he’s the greatest guy I know.” I shrug because my tongue’s starting to feel a bit large for my mouth, and my eyes are starting to water. Stupid fucking hormones. “I love him,” I finally say.
Instead of offering a hug, Mom smiles knowingly, and says, “You know, my mother didn’t approve of your father.”
My brows. “Really?”
She nods. “I met him my freshman year at Northwestern. He was there visiting friends, and the next thing you know, I’m head over heels in love with a guy who lived nearly three hours away in Champaign. Six months later, we’re engaged, and I dropped out of college. Your grandmother was livid, but I knew in my heart this was the right choice, and I’ve never regretted my decision.”
I try to steer clear of family memories. Mostly because it hurts too much. The memories I have are still linked to McLean. Not here. And this story? It’s linked to the now. The life that began the minute I pointed the gun at Edward and pulled the trigger.
From what I remember, the story of my parents meeting started in McLean on Ravenwood. (The de Valc side still lives spread across Virginia) My father’s parents were having a lavish dinner party, and the de Valcs were on the invite list. My mom and dad talked the entire night. The only thing the two stories have in common is it was love at first sight. Mom didn’t drop out of college because she wasn’t attending college. Said she was deciding what path she wanted to take and would wistfully tell me all paths led to my dad.
But I like this story. I prefer this one. I’ll take this one because it gives my mom and me a deeper understanding of each other. She may not grasp the extent of my love for Étienne and just how much we’ve been through, but just this small amount is enough for me.
“I could’ve sworn I told you that,” Mom says.
“I guess I forgot,” I quietly reply.
“Well, that’s neither here nor there. The point is, your father, and me, for that matter, will come around. We recognize you’re an adult. We just want you to be happy.”
“And I am. I promise. I really am.
“Then I am truly happy for you, Serene.”
When Mom stepped outside, I was hesitant to hear what she had to say because my heart was heavy. But now, after our talk, I feel lighter. I didn’t know I’d been holding so much inside, but to hear those words from my mom means the world. Whatever happens, I’ll have the knowledge my parents are happy for me.
I push away and gesture to my car. “I should be going. I’m really tired. And I get nighttime sickness, so I’m due to throw up at any time,” I joke.
Mom laughs and takes a few steps toward the house. “Absolutely. I’ll see you later. Love you, Serene.”
I swallow loudly. “Love you, too.”
Before I have the chance to get choked up, I hurry toward my car and feel the weight of Étienne’s gaze as I get inside. Once I’m buckled up, I exhale. My eyes remain fixed on the steering wheel as I replay the conversation with my mom.
“How was it?” Étienne asks after a few moments.
“Really good.” I lift my gaze and look over at him. A ghost of a smile cr
osses my lips. “I’m glad we came here tonight.” Leaning over the console, I kiss Étienne. He’s momentarily taken off guard but quickly responds. His right hand slides across my jaw before curling around the back of my head to hold me in place. Our tongues meld together, my eyes instinctively close, and my head tilts to the side. Yet before this goes any further, and we start making out like two teenagers in front of my parents’ house, I pull back. “Thank you for pushing me to do this,” I whisper.
Étienne blinks rapidly, appearing completely baffled by my gratitude. “What did you two speak about?”
To Étienne’s disappointment, I sit in my seat and start the car. “I’ll explain on the way to the condo.”
The conversation with Mom was never on the list of things to do, but as we drive away, I find myself mentally crossing it off the list. Even in stressful moments, you’re still allowed a brief reprieve of happiness.
“What happened next?”
“My laptop started troubleshooting, saying my Windows OS was missing, so first, I made sure the BIOS isn’t sensing the hard disk drive.”
Étienne kneels beside Ian as my brother expertly glides the mouse across the pad. “What does BIOS mean?” Étienne asks as he watches the screen with rapt awe.
Ian uses a bunch of IT lingo that goes straight over my head. Only my brother would be excited by his laptop troubleshooting. If it were me, I’d go into a blind rage and threaten to chuck the thing again the wall. But that’s why he’s an IT tech and I’m not.
“Fascinatin’,” Étienne says.
Ian leans back in his chair and shakes his head. “I’m still shocked you’ve never heard of a laptop.”
Étienne continues to stare at the screen as he speaks. “Serene told me about them, but I was quite hesitant that such machinery existed.” I see the moment Étienne realizes the blunder of his words, but my brother doesn’t. Luckily, the screen has Ian held captive.
“You’ve never seen a computer?” Ian asks in a laughing tone.
Étienne looks over my brother’s head and meets my gaze. When you’re caught up in the moment, it’s easy for a slipup to happen. It’s happened to me many times and probably will again.
