by Calia Read
My heart freezes before it begins beating at an erratic rhythm. “I’m well. And yourself?”
The seconds tick by. She doesn’t reply. Her head moves up and down. Almost as if she’s agreeing with what I’m saying.
What is happening right now? My curiosity, which normally outweighs my need for anything else, is overshadowed by the need to get out of here. But Scarlett is standing in front of the closed door, and I don’t know the right words to say to her.
So I say nothing and stay perfectly still, making sure to keep my hands laced behind my back so Scarlett doesn’t see my engagement ring. But I also don’t want to bring attention to my stomach. Doesn’t seem to matter, though; Scarlett’s gaze is transfixed on my face.
“Oh, I’ve been better, all things considered.”
Nervously, I swallow before I speak. “Are you looking for Nathalie? Because I believe she’s downstairs.”
“No. I’m here for you.”
Those four words send a chill down my spine. I’m. Here. For. You.
“But I heard her name downstairs when I was following you, Serene.” Scarlett abruptly turns and looks at Old Serene, and then back at me. She slowly smiles. “Or perhaps you’re Serene. I’m uncertain. You both keep playing games with me, so I’ll continue to talk to the both of you until one of you tells me who Serene is.”
Me and Old Serene say nothing.
Scarlett arches a brow. “Still nothing? Very well. Even though we haven’t spoken to one another, I heard my brother spotted one of you in New York.”
My brows slant low over my eyes. I haven’t been to New York. Not in this era or in the present day. The truth dawns on me. It was Old Serene.
I can’t very well tell Scarlett that.
My gaze connects with Old Serene. One look at her, and I know my suspicions are correct. Her eyes are as wide as saucers. Scarlett notices the same thing and walks to her. Gasping, Old Serene plasters her body against the wall.
“How is Livingston?” Scarlett asks her.
The pale bags beneath Old Serene’s eyes that have been there since she walked into the room become more prominent. Is she feeling as sick as me? Maybe we really are two sides of the same coin.
Gradually, I move away from the bed. I need to get out of this room. Fatigue and nausea sweep through me, causing my body to tilt to the side. I steady myself by placing my left palm against the cool surface of the windowpane.
Old Serene shakes her head. “Wha—”
Apparently, Old Serene doesn’t answer fast enough because Scarlett scoffs, then faces me. I freeze in place. “How is Livingston?” she repeats.
I don’t have the energy to feign confusion. Instead, I answer her. “He is well. He—” Abruptly, I stop speaking and tilt my head to the side. There’s a breathy tone in Scarlett’s voice as though she’s highly invested in the question and can’t wait to hear the answer.
“Holy shit. You attacked him,” I say aloud.
I should’ve kept the revelation to myself, but the truth was too preposterous to keep quiet. Once I discovered Livingston was attacked, I imagined it was a jaded spouse of one of his lovers, or a myriad of other reasons. Never once did I think it was Scarlett.
She advances closer. Her grip is no longer on the handle but the knife. The sharp blade punctures her skin. A thick trail of blood travels across the blade and drops onto the floor. Scarlett doesn’t appear to notice. She’s in some sort of trance.
This chick is insane.
Discreetly, I move away from the window because I’m not falling out of it. Whether it be from an accident or on purpose, I refuse to let that happen. Heavily, I lean against the wall. The pounding in my head is beginning to grow. In a couple of minutes, I won’t have to worry about Scarlett because I’ll black out from this headache. I’d prefer it.
“I didn’t mean to,” Scarlett confesses, eyes wild. “It was dark outside. I thought he was Étienne.” Her lip begins to quiver. “I didn’t realize it was Livingston until I dropped the pipe.”
While her admission sinks into me, my gaze meets Old Serene who’s seconds away from fainting. A snippet from the article I read in the present day comes back to me. “It has been said when you encounter your doppelgänger, death is imminent …
I swallow the bile rising in my throat and try to take a deep breath.
“I’m a good person,” Scarlett maintains.
I don’t know how to mediate this situation. I’m so scared and shocked by what’s happening my body is immobile. And my conscience? Even if it was telling me what to do, I wouldn’t be able to hear it over the rapid beating of my heart.
“You are,” I say agreeably.
“I meant to kill Étienne, not Livingston.” Her lower lip quivers, along with her entire body.
Just drop the knife. Drop the knife … my mind chants.
“My world crumbled when he called off our engagement. I had hoped he would change his mind and come back to me, but he never did.” Scarlett’s voice breaks on the word never. Her eyes narrow into thin slits as she looks directly at me. “All because of you.”
Old Serene, noticing Scarlett’s focus is on me, begins to scoot toward the door. Scarlett whirls around. The tip of the blade stops inches from Old Serene’s face. “Don’t move!” she yells so loudly my ears ring.
It’s clear to see the crazy train derailed a long time ago with Scarlett as the conductor. I could tell her she’s right and that I’m the biggest bitch on the planet who deserves it, and she wouldn’t listen to me. She’s only interested in her own thoughts.
“I don’t know who you are. I-it is she you want!” Old Serene says, pointing in my direction.
All I can do is shake my head because Serene has this era on her side. Every time I open my mouth, I give myself away.
“Let me go,” Old Serene continues, “and do what you want. I should have never come here to begin with.”
“And have you call for help? I think not. I’ll kill you both before I let that happen.”
“Serene!” a male voice bellows.
Scarlett and I turn toward the closed door at the same time. We both recognize the voice. We both know it’s Étienne.
She knows her time is up. Scarlett’s like a prisoner on death row. She confessed to her sins, and now it’s time for everything to end. But she’s not going down without a fight.
She lunges at me, the knife raised above her head. I move to the left, my palms never leaving the smooth surface of the wall. A cheval mirror is to my left. I curl my hands around the top of the mirror and tip it over. It crashes to the ground. Glass flies across the room. There’s a shriek. I’m positive it’s from Old Serene. Scarlett stops so abruptly she falls flat on her ass. “If I have to throw all the furniture in this fucking room. I’ll do it!” I yell with more bravado than I have. “I’m not the person you want, Scarlett.”
Maybe Scarlett believes I’m right. Or maybe she’s so bloodthirsty she just wants to get her hands on anyone and anything so they can feel a tenth of her pain. I’ll never know.
What matters is she turns around and charges Old Serene.
Everything happens in slow motion.
Old Serene makes a run for the door. Her hand curls around the doorknob, and it even turns. There’s a chance she’s going to get out of here.
But the door flings open so powerfully, Old Serene falls back and stares slack jaw at Étienne standing in the doorway. He looks between Old Serene and me with shock and then at Scarlett. He sees the knife and runs forward.
“Scarlett, no!”
If Étienne would have stepped through the door a second faster, he could’ve stopped her. If Old Serene would’ve moved just a quarter inch back, the blade would’ve swiped at the air instead of stabbing her in the neck.
She doesn’t scream, but I do. I hear it cut into the skin, and then I hear Old Serene gasp. My knees drop to the floor the same time Old Serene’s heavily thuds to the ground. Horrific, searing pain blooms in my chest before it spread
s through my body. I stare down at my body, expecting to see blood all over, yet there’s nothing.
I’m feeling everything Old Serene is going through, and it’s petrifying.
As chaos breaks out across the room, I numbly look at Old Serene while she stares back. Our bodies remain parallel on the floor. I hear sounds from this time. Étienne barking orders for Asa to restrain Scarlett and grab the knife from her. But I also hear the sound of my mom’s voice in the present day. The TV’s on. She’s talking to my dad about what to have for dinner.
I try to press my palms against the floor and stand, but my body is frozen as though gravity is pressing all its weight on me. While Old Serene hangs in the balance between life and death, I linger between past and present.
Time is merely waiting for one of us to lose our grip and fall. And it will happen. Everything that’s happened has been leading up to this moment.
And then, right before my very eyes, Old Serene’s feet gradually become opaque then evaporate. This time, it’s Old Serene who does the screaming. Not me. But no one in the room notices. In fact, no one seems to notice she’s slowly ceasing to exist. Étienne’s now by my side. I can feel his hand on my shoulder, then my stomach. He asks if I’m okay and what happened.
All I can do is watch Old Serene be no more.
They say when someone dies, their hearing is the last to go. For Old Serene, it’s her eyes. The dread and fear are the last things I see brewing in her irises before the final trace of her fades.
When you stand between all the todays and tomorrows, you always feel as though you’re going to slip and fall. But I swear, the moment Old Serene’s eyes disappear, there’s a suction in the room drawing out all the air, and a solid jolt beneath my body that can’t be the floor. My body relaxes, and my muscles unclench. My heart doesn’t stop pounding.
I stare in horror at where Old Serene once laid. There’s not a drop of her blood on the floor.
Scarlett’s sobs tear through the room as Miles, with the help of a servant, picks up a wild Scarlett.
“Have you lost your mind?” Miles shouts at her.
“She has a twin! I saw her myself!” Scarlett repeats through tears.
I know the physical symptoms of what it feels before you pass out, and that’s not what I’m feeling right now. My world narrows to a pinprick, my breathing slows, and my heart beats loudly in my ears. I’ve stopped hearing Étienne and can only watch his lips move.
Someone places their hand on my shoulder. When I look up, I see Nathalie near tears. “Are you all right?” she cries.
Slowly, I blink. How am I supposed to answer that? I’m still trying to process everything I just witnessed.
While Miles and a male servant half-drag a flailing Scarlett out the room, her words travel behind her. “You can’t do this! She disappeared! You have to believe me!”
I shiver as Scarlett’s words settle over me. I was so close to leaving Étienne and this era. Only this time, for good.
Étienne kneels in front of me, gripping my arms firmly. “Thank God you’re still here.” I’m able to sit up, but my arms feel shaky. “She’s gone,” I whisper. “I watched her go right in front of me.” My voice catches on the last word.
Étienne nods. “I know, I know …” He wraps his arms around me. I hold on to him like a lifeline, wrapping my arms around his waist and placing my cheek against his chest.
Étienne combs his hand through my hair and kisses the crown of my head. “It’s okay. It’s over now. We’re safe.”
Exhaling loudly, I look out the window where the endless driveway lies.
I’ve only felt the cold hands of death three times in my life.
The first time, I was fourteen. The second was in the basement while Étienne’s head rested in my lap and the metallic scent of his blood filled the room.
The third time is now.
“Do I look knocked up?”
Discreetly, Nat looks over my shoulder at my reflection. She gives me a careful once-over before her eyes crinkle at the corner. It’s a barely discernible wince, but I see it. She’s trying to figure out how to answer.
“Well...”
“That’s a yes, isn’t it?”
“Serene, you are seven months pregnant,” Nathalie points out.
“I am aware of that,” I huff.
“Please take no offense to this, but you’ve appeared with child since you came back.” Nat backs away and winces as though she’s afraid of what my reaction will be.
I don’t reply because she’s right. Since Étienne and I have been in his era, and I entered my seventh month of pregnancy, my stomach really decided to pop. At Belgrave, I don’t attempt to hide my bump. In public, I do because people are nosy as hell.
Your wedding day usually only comes around once, and I want this to go perfectly. I don’t want a single person whispering behind their fans about this or that, so it’s going to be a quiet affair. This is something that Étienne and I readily agreed upon. Our self-proclaimed wedding planner, Nathalie, nearly had a conniption over it. If you give Nat an inch, she will take a mile. Especially when it comes to weddings. She’s a romantic at heart and took the wedding planning very seriously. I viewed flowers and finding the right gown and food as overwhelming. Nat took the Herculean task with miraculous grace and finished everything on time. A feat I didn’t think possible.
For me, there were three things I’ve dreamed of having at my wedding since I was a little girl: a dramatic train and a cathedral veil to match. I would not compromise on the two.
Nat’s free hand covers my own. “I couldn’t be more thrilled for you.”
My lips curve upward, but I feel frozen. My nerves are kicking in, which is ridiculous. Étienne and I love each other more than life. It’s just a momentous occasion. An occasion neither of our parents would be attending. That was the final link to my dream wedding, but it wasn’t meant to be. One set couldn’t by cruel cards life had dealt them. The other could be, if it wasn’t for the decision I made to stay here. I’m reminded that there will be many moments in the upcoming years when I’ll miss my family terribly, but nothing compares to the way I miss Étienne when we’re apart.
“We’ll finally be sisters,” Nat squeals.
I turn and hold her hands in mine. Today, I need her support more than she realizes. “You know I try to avoid sappy moments like the plague, but we’ve always been sisters. You know that, right?”
Nat’s signature heartwarming smile tugs at her lips. “I do.”
“Good. Because I won’t say it again.”
“I know you won’t.”
I stare at my reflection one last time. I never thought I’d be knocked up on my wedding day. Then again, I never thought I’d be getting married in the 19th century, either. My baby bump and fast-approaching wedding made it hard to find a gown on such short notice, so we called on Madame Bourgeois. She found an understated gown made of high-grade silk. She created a gown with an intricate lace bodice, high neckline, and three-quarter sleeves. The dress isn’t meant to be worn with a corset and inserts, but that’s the last thing I need right now. To add flair from the present day, the back dips lower than most. Madame Bourgeois is progressive and didn’t bat an eye as she took my measurements over my bump. She made sure the material draped over my figure. When I walk, the silk flows all around me and grazes my stomach.
Nat walks to the window and pulls back the curtains, then grabs our bouquet from the vanity. “The car is here. We should be going.”
The roles have reversed as Nat helps hold my train as I walk down the stairs. I clutch the banister for dear life as I carefully take each step. My other hand clutches the hem of my gown. I have a flashback of me flying down the stairs, the pale pink robe billowing around me as I furiously searched for Étienne so I could have my old clothes back.
My, oh, my, a lot of things have changed since then.
When Nat and I reach the foyer, she fusses over my train and veil, making sure my shoes haven�
�t caught on the lace. Ben is waiting and ready at the door. Before he dips his head and opens the door, he gives me a small wink.
We hurry down the porch and into the car as quickly as possible. The driver pulls away from Belgrave and the trees envelop us in their shade. Lacing my fingers around my knees, I take a deep breath. Halfway down the driveway, the driver parks.
“That was a long drive,” Nat says deadpan.
“My sarcasm has worn off on you. This is a proud moment for me.”
She laughs as the driver holds the door open for us. We could’ve walked down the driveway, and if I wasn’t pregnant and didn’t go to the bathroom every thirty minutes, we would have. This was just the better option.
Outside, she smiles softly at me. “Ready?”
I nod. “Born ready.”
Livingston is waiting by the pathway, dressed in a black suit. “You’re late. Étienne’s been pacin’ like a caged animal.”
“We’re not late!” Nat protests.
“This is Étienne we’re speakin’ of. If you’re not five minutes early, you’re late. And he’s nervous. But you did not hear that from me.”
I exhale a shaky breath. “Gotcha.”
Livingston holds out his arm. “Can I have the honor of escortin’ you to your beastly fiancé and watchin’ him become green with envy that you’re on my arm?”
Nat rubs her temples. “Livingston. Not today.”
“This is their weddin’ day, and suddenly, I’m supposed to be a gentleman?”
“That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.”
Perhaps the greatest thing since being back is watching Livingston return to himself. Étienne and I didn’t see him after his attack, or through his recovery the way Nathalie and close family friends did, but the small moments I did see him were heart wrenching enough. It restored a part of the Lacroix family that seemed to be missing.
Grinning, Livingston holds his arm out to me. I link my arms through his and wait for Nat to take her place in front of us.
Nat walks down the small path, taking her cue from the violinist that stands off to the left, directly beside the priest. A large oak tree hides me from Étienne’s sight, but it doesn’t stop me from taking a peek. Nat’s almost toward the priest who stands in front of the archway decorated in flowers. He stands beside the priest with his hands cupped in front of him. His head is down, gaze rooted on the ground.
