by Amanda Paris
“Emily,” I heard, a gentle human voice bringing me back to the present.
I realized that Ben wasn’t looking at the stars or the ruins but at me. I met his eyes, and he drew his fingers across my cheeks, wiping my tears and pulling me closer to him. I didn’t have the will to resist. He found my lips with his, and though I was startled at first, I didn’t push him away. I could feel the tears course down my cheeks, could taste the salt of them, a bitter reminder of my loss.
Suddenly, I didn’t care about the consequences. I put my hands in his hair and kissed him back, allowing his fingers to trail down my back. I could feel his surprise as he pulled me towards him with eagerness. I wrapped my arms around his strong and slender waist, drawing him closer. His heartbeat quickened, thudding against his chest, and his hands warmed my chilled skin. He slid his hands under my jacket when Mr. Dean’s voice announced that it was time to leave. We broke apart, and I looked up into Ben’s eyes. He smoothed back a fallen tendril from my face and kissed me lightly, meaningfully. I could still taste the salt of my tears on his lips.
What have I done?
****
The next morning, Ben grew quiet when I came down for breakfast, uncertain, I knew, about where we stood. I avoided his eyes, guilty that I’d let my grief for Damien cloud my judgment. I knew it wasn’t fair to Ben.
I ate a quick bite of cereal and ran upstairs to brush my teeth and pack my last things. Annie and I gathered our bags, checked out, and shared a taxi to the airport, meeting up with the others, who’d either divided up into taxis or taken the Tube, after we’d arrived. Thankfully, Zack and Ben took a separate taxi from us.
When we arrived, I avoided Ben, who sensed my hesitation at breakfast and left me alone, playing cards with Zack before we left. Annie wanted to shop in the airport for souvenirs. I dreaded the overpowering aroma of airport perfume but knew it was probably better than the awkwardness of sitting with Zack and Ben.
I worried that Annie might have seen Ben and me the night before, but it had been dark. And Annie hadn’t said anything to me when we’d returned.
After browsing through a few shops and finding something to eat, we’d nearly run out of time. Just as the waiter brought our ticket, I heard them call our names over the intercom. It was actually past time to leave, and the announcement was a final boarding call. We hurriedly paid, left the restaurant, and ran through the airport. The flight attendants looked at us in perturbation, and Mr. Dean appeared livid. Fortunately, it was time to buckle up, so I avoided any lectures for the time being. I knew I’d get it when we landed, but hopefully the long flight back would take the edge off of his anger.
Just before we took off, I gazed out over all that we would leave behind. Of course, I only saw the airport, but it was a mental readjustment for me. I hadn’t been able to have what I came for, and leaving made my failure all the more real. I could feel the tears welling inside, but I had none left to shed. The sorrow ran too deep, and I didn’t want Annie or Ben to worry. I felt the cross in my pocket and tried to draw some strength from it. At least I’d known Damien in one of my lives, I thought. Maybe I would find him in my next one.
I spent the majority of the flight trying to sleep. Ben and I hadn’t been assigned seats near each other, and I was grateful, knowing that I couldn’t keep relying on him. It sent him false messages of hope that I shouldn’t encourage. I wondered what had overtaken me the night before. I did still love Ben, but I suspected strongly that it was Damien I felt and imagined as I kissed him.
I knew I’d have to make it clear to Ben when we got back home that it was just a one-time thing. I knew now that he wanted me back and thought he’d made some progress. He knew something had happened, or rather, didn’t happen, and he believed it had created an opening for him.
I wanted to feel differently after I’d failed to bring Damien through time, but my feelings remained unchanged. I couldn’t explain what had provoked me into kissing Ben—whether it was the moonlight, my sense of needing to hang on to something or someone I loved, or just the feeling of history that had surrounded us—but I knew that I needed to steer clear of him from now on. It would be so easy to get back together with him, even knowing that I loved him less than Damien and always would. And that wasn’t fair. I couldn’t give him my whole heart. I still loved Ben too much to give him second best.
The flight seemed interminable. Along the way, I considered the hopefulness I had felt before and compared it to the intense despair I carried with me now. It was almost too much to bear.
We finally arrived home, and Aunt Jo was waiting for me in the Saratoga, a welcome, familiar sight. I was never so glad to see her.
“Emily,” Mr. Dean called before I could reach her.
I turned, wanting only to get home, but knowing I was long overdue for a lecture about my strange behavior.
“Yes?” I said wearily.
“I’m not planning to report you to the principal, although I should. Instead, you’ll need to go to detention after school all of next month,” he said. His tone of voice was sterner than it had been even at the station in Salisbury that morning.
I wasn’t surprised by my punishment. I’d been expecting something like this, if not much worse, and guessed that Mr. Dean didn’t want to ruin the rest of the trip by sentencing me then. What he didn’t know was that it didn’t matter whether I had detention or not. Nothing mattered to me anymore.
“Fine,” I replied, turning to leave.
Aunt Jo looked at me, puzzled.
“I’ll explain later,” I said, opening the back of the Saratoga to put my bags in.
“Hey, wait!” a voice called. It was Annie.
“Aren’t you going to say goodbye?” she asked in a small voice.
“Oh, of course. See you tomorrow,” I said, giving her a hug. I realized I still owed her a huge favor—she’d never been able to sneak off in Paris like I’d promised, and she’d received a warning from Mr. Dean when he’d discovered her part in my cover story. Though she hadn’t gotten into trouble—as far as I knew—Annie hadn’t enjoyed getting caught. It didn’t take much to upset her, and I felt bad. I had a lot to make up for, I thought, resolving to see less of Ben and more of Annie.
She looked hurt, and I couldn’t blame her. I’d not said more than two words to anyone since coming back from my failed trip to the chapel, and she didn’t know what had happened. She had a right to be upset. I’d not been the best friend lately.
Aunt Jo remained quiet on the ride back home. When we arrived, she turned off the ignition and turned to me.
“Emily, you know I don’t like to pry, but you look awful—not at all like the girl I took to the airport or a person just back from her first trip overseas. Did something happen?”
“You could say that,” I answered, not meeting her eyes.
“I didn’t get a call, so I’m assuming you weren’t kidnapped, mutilated, or otherwise harmed,” she said, trying humor to lighten the mood.
“No, nothing like that,” I replied, looking down at my lap.
“Boy trouble?” she asked.
That was an understatement.
“I know you and Ben broke up some time ago, so I’m assuming it’s not about him,” she said.
She wasn’t letting up, which told me how terrible I must have looked to her.
I shook my head no, still not meeting her eyes.
“And I know you haven’t dated anyone since Ben…”
That was true.
“So I’m guessing it’s a boy you like but can’t have?” she asked tentatively.
I nodded, leaving it at that. In a way, it was true.
She reached over to give me an awkward hug since we were both still sitting in the car. I made the effort to smile, and we got out. I followed her inside more slowly, knowing she wouldn’t ask me anymore questions, though I could tell that she was disappointed that I wasn’t full of exciting stories.
I took my bags out of the car and entered the front door,
glad finally to be home. I started climbing the stairs when Aunt Jo’s voice stopped me.
“Oh, I almost forgot. You have a couple of messages. One was from Ramona wanting to know about your trip, and one was a voice I didn’t recognize.”
I wasn’t paying too much attention to her. I’d call Ramona tomorrow, and I didn’t much care who the other person was.
I’d almost made it to the top of the stairs, wanting only to collapse on the bed and dream of Damien, when Aunt Jo’s next words halted me in my tracks.
She picked up the pad by the phone in the hall.
“Oh yes, the other message was from someone named Damien. Was that someone you met abroad? He sounded foreign. I couldn’t place the accent.”
I froze on the stairs, dropping my bags.
“What did you say?” I whispered. I must have misheard her.
“I said,” she repeated slowly, “You had two messages, one from Ramona…”
“Yes, I heard that part. What’s the other one?” I interrupted, trying to keep my voice level, though I felt frantic inside, desperate to know if I’d heard her correctly.
“The second message was…let me see…” She consulted her pad while I stood there, feeling as though my life hung in the balance.
“Yes, it was two days ago, I believe. You have a message from someone named Damien. Do you know him?”
It couldn’t be. No. I would have felt something. He would have appeared before me in the chapel or forest, right? I hoped this wasn’t someone’s idea of a horrible, sick joke. I mentally went through the list of people I’d mentioned his name to. Ramona. Annie. Ben. Anyone they told. Likely Zack. Would Ben have told Angela? It sounded like some prank she’d pull. But what if it wasn’t a joke? What if I’d actually brought him through time?
“What did he say?” I asked in a voice barely above a whisper.
“Speak up, Emily, I’m not so young as I used to be.”
“Oh, right, sorry, Aunt Jo. I said, what did he say?” I asked a little more loudly.
“Something about getting the next flight to Florida. He’ll come by tomorrow night. I guess that would be tonight. I hope we haven’t missed him.”
I closed my eyes, swaying slightly as the light began to recede.
Aunt Jo moved quickly for a woman in her seventies. She ran up the stairs and put her arms on my shoulders, supporting me before I collapsed.
I must have revived immediately after that, the Duchess licking my face.
“You need some rest. If this Damien person comes, I’ll just tell him you’re tired and need your rest. He can always come back tomorrow,” she finished, concern in her voice.
“No!” I screamed, startling Aunt Jo and the Duchess, who scampered away in a dander.
“No,” I repeated more calmly. “I’ll see him.”
I jumped up with amazing energy, surprising Aunt Jo, who still sat on the stairs watching my strange behavior. I ran up the stairs two at a time to the bathroom, my heart racing. I combed my hair, frantically wishing I had time to straighten the curls or at least get them going in the right direction. I looked at my watch. It was six o’clock. Surely he wouldn’t have already come by. Six was still afternoon, right? Or did six officially begin the evening? Maybe it depended on the time of the year. Had I missed him? My thoughts spun around erratically.
I’d left my bags on the steps where they’d fallen, so I had to go back, throwing out the contents right there as I pulled out toothbrush and toothpaste. My hands shook, and Aunt Jo and the Duchess just stared at me, wondering what demon possessed me to scurry around so.
This could not be happening. I felt hysterical again, but I fought the urge to sit down and cry in sheer relief. This was too important, and I was vain enough not to want a bloated face when I saw him. Some women cried daintily. Not me. When I cried, it was a disgusting mess for everyone concerned. My eyes got red and swollen, my nose ran, and my cheeks became beet red. I had to take great heaving breaths. Overall, it was not a pretty sight.
I splashed water in my face, glad the gash had healed and the scratches had nearly faded, and looked through the medicine cabinet for lip gloss. Usually, I wore little or no makeup, and I wished I had mascara for my nonexistent eyelashes. Where was that bag Ramona gave me? I couldn’t find it anywhere. I’d have to raid Aunt Jo’s drawer below the sink, which revealed precious little else—some blush, which I definitely didn’t need with my flushed cheeks, a little foundation in a color totally wrong for my pale face, and half a container of loose powder. I’d have to settle for the powder and lip gloss. If I hadn’t been so frantic, I would have laughed. I needed Ramona in more ways than one.
While I applied the powder, which triggered my allergies and made me sneeze, I started combing through my hair furiously, almost taking it out by the roots. Calm down, I told myself. You accomplish nothing by pulling out your hair. Somewhat satisfied with the mediocre results of my efforts, I turned my attention to what I’d wear.
I raced out of the bathroom and into my bedroom, opening the armoire and tossing pants and shirts aside as I searched for something suitable to wear.
The Duchess and Aunt Jo stood by the door, looking at the disarray around the room. In my haste, I realized that I hadn’t bothered to rub the Duchess on my way in, and she looked offended.
Sorry, Duchess, I thought. She meowed loudly, still annoyed with me.
“I take it that this is the guy,” Aunt Jo said, surveying my frantic activity.
I smiled, not pausing to look up at her.
I nodded, hopping on one foot as I tried pulling off my jeans, shirt, socks, and shoes all at once.
The Duchess slipped by me and started wading through the pile of clothes on the floor, finding the ivory dress at the bottom of the pile and pulling it out with her teeth. She was remarkably resourceful.
I quickly put the dress over my head and checked my appearance in the mirror. My breath caught. Even though the dress wasn’t as long or elaborate as the one I’d been wearing when I last saw Damien, it was pretty close.
“You look nice. I hope he’s worth it,” Aunt Jo remarked, shaking her head.
“He is,” I said, kissing her cheek as I ran past her.
I skipped down the stairs and went out to sit on the front steps to wait. My dress felt hot and heavy for the weather, and I hoped I wouldn’t break out into eczema, which sometimes happened in the summer. But I didn’t care. I wanted to be ready for him when he came.
I didn’t have long to wait. The black Audi pulled up in front of the house, and he got out. He had the darkest hair of anyone I’d ever seen, and his face matched the one in my dreams. He stared at me intently, his dark eyes never wavering from my face. He had the most beautiful face—even more stunning than the one I’d imagined.And he looked larger than I’d remembered too, the rolled-up sleeves revealing the strong arms I remembered.
I began to shake uncontrollably, feeling dizzy, hot, and faint all at once. I leaned on the rail to steady myself as I rose to meet him. Though I stood two steps above him, he still towered over me.
“Emmeline,” he said.
My heart stopped. His voice sounded like music from a distant country. It was exactly the same as I’d remembered and yet an entirely new experience.
I couldn’t speak. I could only stare at him. He smiled, reaching out to caress my cheek, and everything faded to black. I’d never fainted twice in ten minutes before, but I did then.
Sometime later, I awoke in his arms, the arms I remembered from long ago. I looked into his face, still not comprehending that he was really there.
Aunt Jo came in, a glass of water in her hand.
“Is she awake?” she asked, looking alarmed.
“I think so,” he said, and I marveled again at the perfection of his voice. This was so much better than all the dreams I’d had of him. Was I delirious or just hallucinating? I didn’t much care. No moment in my life could compare to this, and if I’d finally gone insane, it would be fine by me. I�
�d reached nirvana, and I needed nothing else for the rest of my life.
“Emily?” Aunt Jo said loudly, bringing me back to reality.
“Emmeline?” Damien said, nearly causing me to faint for a third time.
Aunt Jo had been right. He sounded as though he came from a different country, but none I’d ever visited.
“Emily, can you hear me?” Aunt Jo asked, kneeling beside me. I was reclining in Damien’s arms on the couch in the living room.
I shook my head to clear it.
“I’m still just tired, I guess,” I said, not understanding my reaction.
“She needs rest,” Aunt Jo said pointedly to Damien, who immediately took the hint.
“Of course. Emmeline, I’ll come back tomorrow,” he said reluctantly, intense regret filling his voice.
“No!” I screamed, clutching his arm.
I’d only just gotten him; I wasn’t letting him out of my sight. I turned to Aunt Jo.
“I’ll be fine, Aunt Jo, I promise. I’d just like a few minutes alone with Damien,” I said a little more calmly.
Aunt Jo muttered something under her breath about teenagers and turned to go, shaking her head.
“I will protect her,” he said, casting a look that must have caught her unawares. She immediately softened towards him, smiling a radiantly youthful smile I’d never seen before. I caught a brief glimpse of the beautiful young woman she had been, her long hair cascading in folds, her bright eyes perpetually sparkling. I imagined that any woman still breathing would find Damien charming, but he had also seemed to make her young again.
Aunt Jo left, her earlier distemper having faded, and Damien turned his attention to me again.
“How did you get here?” I asked.
“I drove,” he replied simply.
Drove?
“I can see that,” I said, looking past him out the window to the car outside.
I’d imagined him well off, but not quite this well off. I recognized the Versace glasses hanging from one pocket and the Armani pants. The shoes looked like Italian leather. Altogether, he was gorgeous and, from what I could see, appeared to be rich.
