Lia said, “What a mess. Her aunt? I don’t think Emma knew that . . .”
“No, but she’ll find out soon enough. Kerry knows and so does Tor. They’ll tell her.”
“Sonnet, you keep talking about it like it’s happening now. Those people are all dead and gone. It’s past tense, not present tense,” said Niki.
I bent a strand of grass between my fingers, snapping it. “Honestly, I’m having trouble wrapping my head around that fact, Niki. For me it was just yesterday.”
“Aunt Kate is calling us in for dinner,” said Evan. “Let’s go.”
After everyone left, Lia stayed behind and scooted up next to me. “What’s going on? You seem . . . I don’t know. Older. Changed. Full of secrets.”
“I don’t mean to be secretive. So much happened. The last two weeks have seriously felt like two years. I’m just not ready to talk about it yet.”
“Is it Tor?”
I put my arms around my knees and laid my head on them. “I guess I can’t hide anything from you.”
“Did something happen?”
What had it been? What could I say? “We saw each other when we could. We kissed. I don’t know—it wasn’t so much what we did—it was how we felt about each other.” The ache was rising to my heart. I let it wash over me. That familiar pain.
“He didn’t accept that I wasn’t Emma at first. And then after he got over the shock and accepted it, he asked if I would be his if Emma didn’t come back. We were so attracted to each other, and we knew it was wrong, but it was so complicated, Lia, so confusing. He had only her and he really, really loved her. That was hard for me. For both of us because he cared about me, too. We were never just still with anything for certain. Like the tide. Smooth for a minute and then churning . . .”
“Did you love him?”
Past tense. The ache squeezed and squeezed at my heart.
River water had crashed against boulders the night Tor and I rode to the top of Simeon’s mountain, where the moon and the stars kissed the earth. Where I had cuddled my body back into the curve of his warm chest, wrapped in his arms, his beautiful, damaged arms, adored and wanted.
Yes. I had loved him.
Lia put her arm around my shoulders. “I don’t want you to feel bad. Emma would understand your pull to each other. We think you might have been living a past life. You really were Emma while you were there. And if you were Emma, Tor really was your boyfriend. And maybe even your husband and the father of your children someday. None of it could be helped. Emma understood that. She wanted you to be with him if she couldn’t make it back, Sonnet. She told me. That’s how much she loved him and how much she thought of you.”
I nodded at my best friend through my tears and turned back to Elliot Bay, a blanket of undulating diamonds spread out beyond us. I felt the thrill of pressing up close to Rapp and his messenger bag that first day, the mystery of the mansion still in front of us. I felt the agony of watching Tor round the Mystery Mine bend and ride his red horse away from me. Understanding spilled down on top of my shoulders and dripped slowly to my heart. My crazy, excruciating love for both Rapp and Tor—all of it, every bit of it—had been written in the stars.
Lia sat close, sopping up my sadness. After a while she nudged me. “I’m gonna get some of Grandpa’s lasagna. Do you want me to bring some out to you?”
“I’ll come in. Give me another minute.”
“Always and forever. As many as you want.”
I took her arm before she could leave. “I saw her, Lia. I saw my turquoise-and-white T-shirt. She was there and then she was gone. It was like seeing me and, at the same time, seeing someone I—I loved.”
Lia gave me a hug. “Everything’s gonna be okay, now. You’re back where you belong and so is she.”
I sat alone on the grass for a while longer and watched the sun sink behind the Olympic Mountains.
In the empty kitchen, I got myself a plate of lasagna and walked down the hall to the open window in the living room, bypassing the noise and fun in the dining room where Grandpa had them singing and Evan had them laughing. A salty breeze rippled through my hair, and the chirp of crickets kept time with Grandpa’s song.
The earth was rotating as it had done from the beginning of time, turning day into night. The sun had disappeared but its force behind the mountains lit the cobalt sky with neon swaths of pink and purple, orange and red.
I caught my breath. There it was—the truth of us—splashed across the heavens, and I knew. Love doesn’t just vanish. It lives in the beauty that circles the world, spinning its net across the universe, lighting the sun and the moon and the stars. It was there for whoever had the courage to lift her head and wipe away her tears and look.
I unbound my heart and let my love for him fly away to join the colors of the sky.
“Good bye, Tor,” I whispered to the magnificence. “It’s time for me to let Emma have you back . . .”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Emma
1895
The exquisite mountain air gusting in through the open window woke Emma from a deep, sweet slumber. Across the room in a shaft of sunshine sat Kerry, head bowed over a book, red curls escaping from her cap. Emma had almost forgotten how much strength there was in that small body. She knew not much about this small Irish nanny who had been a constant in her life for almost four years. She felt sorry she had never taken the time or interest in her. Or the interest in any of the Sweetwine hired help. She had been too enmeshed in her own troubles and had been bred not to notice or care much about the people who worked their hearts out for them.
“Good morning, Kerry!”
Kerry raised her head up from the book. “Good morning, Miss Emma. You have slept for a day and a night and now into day again. I hope you are rested.”
“I feel wonderful.”
“I’ll ring for a lunch tray.”
“Yes, please—I’m famished.”
“Miss, I was wondering . . . if I might be so bold as to speak to you . . . a favor as it were . . .”
“Ask me, Kerry. And please do not be fearful to speak to me about whatever worries you. I must tell you, I come back to this place a changed girl. I have seen another way to live.”
“Sonnet thought you might be changed. Now I have seen it for myself.” Kerry beamed. “Tor, Maxwell, and I have a plan for this day. We hope you can join us.”
How was it that such a simple one-syllable word—Tor—could cause her body such physical anguish and the utter collapse of any thinking area of her mind. “Does he know I have returned?”
“Indeed. I have sat with you on and off since yesterday to deliver a message from him, relayed through Maxwell to me.”
“You and Maxwell both know about Tor and me?”
“We know everything. The three of us became quite close in our joint endeavor to see Sonnet off and you back home. Your secret is safe with us.”
What a relief. Two people already in this old world were accepting of Tor’s love for her. “Please tell me how I can be of help. Tell me Tor’s message.”
“He wishes to meet you today and this will free me up to accomplish my own errands. We have devised a plan to make this happen.”
She might see him this day. Her heart grew large, surely too big for her chest. “Please tell me.”
“Maxwell will escort me to town to pick up the photographs taken at the fair. He is then taking me to a gold appraiser he has knowledge of. Someone who can keep a confidence. I have found the ring your aunt stole from Sonnet. She thought she had found a proper place to keep it hidden, but I know her too well. She has no idea it is gone from its hiding place. I am leaving, miss, and Sonnet gave me the ring to fund my train ticket away from here. I can’t stay in this house any longer.”
During their short conversation, Kerry had casually called Sonnet by her given name four times, as if the year was 2015 and it was the most natural thing to do. Yes, Kerry and Sonnet had been friends. “How does this involve Tor and me?”<
br />
Kerry smiled. “You ask to come with us. But instead of going into town, we take you to Tor.”
“Will she allow me to leave with you?”
“Oh, I think she will,” said Kerry. “There is trepidation in her eyes now when your name is mentioned. Thanks to Sonnet, I think you will find more freedom in this house for yourself.”
Emma flew out of bed and swung the oak wardrobe doors open. She jiggled a board loose on its wooden flooring and from the hiding space took a small purple sack tied with gold ribbon. “Take this. Order doubles of the photographs. There are two. Although one is blurry, you must order it. Keep the rest of the coins for yourself. You will need them for your trip from Monte Cristo. And Kerry, there is a registration receipt somewhere in the house for the Oldfield’s School for Ladies. If you could find that for me, I would be forever in your debt.”
“Of course, and I thank you for the coins.” Kerry untied the ribbon and took a small paper-wrapped object from deep in her pocket. Before she could drop it in the bag, Emma held out her hand. “May I?”
The paper held a broken gold chain and cross, and a rectangle of onyx that in turn held three tiny diamonds sitting on a thin platinum band. It looked like a little domino. Emma slid it onto her finger and turned it to the light. The sun caught the diamonds and reflected a rainbow pattern that shifted from the wallpaper onto the high ceiling. “Sonnet’s ring,” she whispered. She moved her hand and the kaleidoscope of colors moved with it, radiant stars and their halos of light, twinkling across her room.
“Kerry, was she wearing a black-and-red shirt when she left?”
“Indeed, she was, miss. It was a borrowed shirt from Tor. She was in disguise, dressed as a boy, for her escape. Why?”
“It must have been a dream.” She had seen Sonnet. A fleeting glimpse. In Tor’s shirt. After a moment, she drew the ring off her finger and kissed it, silently wishing it a blessing on its way to someone else’s hand. It would more than pay for passage to Seattle and several months lodging in a ladies’ boarding house while Kerry looked for a new position. She would be set in her new life.
“I almost forgot. These are from your father.” Kerry put her hand back in her pocket and held out several small brochures.
Emma quickly found the one from Seattle.
TOR walked her through the cabin door and took her into the hot, golden circle of his arms.
Emma had never been this alone with him, had never been inside his little dwelling. It held the sweet smell of new lumber and sunshine, the scent of leather and horses, and, to her, this plain, tiny home was a thousand times grander than her father’s opulent mansion. She breathed him in, unsteady, her body moving on its own, thoughts suddenly fleeing. She stood on her toes because her body told her to, and raised her head to his. He kissed her and ran his hands to the small of her back, forcing her hips against his own.
Their kisses were gentle at first, and then became an inferno that burned her under her clothes, as if the sun were in the room with them, shining on bare skin. His hands on her were fire, blistering licks of flame, and he moaned, a song of passion that caused her own whimpered sighs.
And the cold stone of doubt that Emma had been carrying in her heart crumbled into a million pieces and blew away, fairy dust to their secret world. She knew now the fragility of love, the preciousness of it, the suffering in having it torn away. She loved Tor beyond anyone’s questioning, anyone’s judgment. Love was their treasure, their gift to each other, and she would never again hide it in darkness.
“Emma . . .” With a frown, Tor shifted away, glancing at a leather and silver bracelet on his wrist.
He began to say something about Sonnet, started to explain the last weeks. Emma pulled him back to her and laid her head against his chest. His heart rocked and thumped, a wild animal, as it lay above her own. “No,” she whispered, finding it difficult to form words. “Nothing from the past. Not now.”
Tor raised her face to his and smiled, running kisses from her forehead down her nose to her lips and kept her tight in his embrace. “Tell me about our future, then.”
Emma’s body settled down and the stabs of passion quieted, leaving her to turn her mind back to the day. “Father will let me choose where I go to school now. I have seen a brochure, a lovely place in Seattle. A unique institution for girls recently opened in the mansion of a prominent man of business and society. A Mister George F. Fischer. His grand house is so immense, the teachers conduct classes in his ballrooms, and students live in his many bedrooms. And he and his wife are associated with the Chautauqua Assembly on Vashon Island. I have been to Vashon, Tor. There will be summer campfires and clambakes, concerts and art . . .”
Her words vanquished his smile. She had rushed and shown too much excitement. Nothing changed in his bearing. But it was as if his insides sagged.
“You will leave Monte Cristo then. After all.”
“I can’t stay in that house with her, you must know that. I want a good education. I have seen another way to live. Not only boys can be educated well.”
“So, I have heard.” He moved away and stared past her out the little window.
“What life do we have here with her spying on us, Tor? You must leave, too, find work in Seattle. There is a big city to build. There are scores of every kind of people who will come and make their lives there. They will want houses built. They will want stores and churches and schools. Instead of moving away from this mountain in three summers, we move now. You follow me after you have finished Father’s new barn and before the snow falls. We will more easily meet and be together in a place where we are not known, where people like us can be seen without worry. You shall build us a home when you have time between projects. And when I have graduated from The Fischer School, we marry, as agreed to by our sworn secret.”
The window stood open to the mountain breeze. The curtains puffed in and out, and a vast stand of trees loomed beyond them. She watched him as he viewed their form with still eyes as if the trees were not there, seeing instead an outline of a life taking shape, as clear and sharp as a modern movie. She waited for him to come back to her.
“It’s as if the one I knew no longer stands before me, Emma. You have become fearless. And you must know there is nothing in Monte Cristo for me but you.”
He no longer sagged.
“Is that a yes?”
His murmurs and hands and mouth arched her back and made the air too dense to breathe. He whispered for her love—and she willingly gave it to him. And with her assent, he took her heart and made it his own. Tears welled in his green eyes and ran down his sunburned cheeks, mixing with the golden stubble on his chin. They rocked each other.
And Emma knew love.
WITH the thud of horses’ hooves and the squeak of metal wheels, their time had come to an end. Maxwell was back to fetch her. Tor helped her in across from Kerry. Finally wrenching her thoughts and her body away from her beloved, and with a pang, Emma saw the same broad smile on Kerry’s face as Evan had always had on his. The selling of the ring must have gone well. Her fellow conspirator was delirious in her happiness.
Tor passed her the envelope he had taken from a bureau on the way out the cabin door. He rapped lightly on the carriage to let Maxwell know his passengers were ready. Emma righted the surprising letter in her hands. Emma Sweetwine stared back in bold black letters across the front. In the same hand, Sonnet McKay had been written in smaller letters in the upper left-hand corner.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Sonnet
2015
Lia held my hair out in front of my face and slowly cut bangs across my eyebrows to better hide the Monte Cristo scar from my mother’s soon-to-be nosy gaze. I fluffed them up. We stood back and admired her work in the mirror.
“Have you ever noticed how we all have the same eyes, Sonnet? All five of us kids. Different hair, skin color, and bodies, but the same hazel eyes.”
“Yeah, just like Dad and Aunt Kate,” I said. “And now th
at you mention it, like Grandpa, too.”
“Seriously strong eye genes.”
I stared at her. “Come with me to Grandpa’s. We can ride over really quick. I’ll take Niki’s old bike.”
“You said goodbye to him last night. And anyway, Rapp’s with Evan, waiting for you. He wants to see you before you guys leave. He thinks you’re ignoring him.”
I could hear Rapp and Evan dribbling a basketball around on the patio under the deck, laughing their heads off.
Two weeks. Best friends.
“Did he get with Jules while I was gone, Lia?”
“Not even a bit.”
“Really?”
“I swear. He wasn’t interested, at all. And neither was she.”
“How about with Emma?”
“No! Absolutely no sparks between those two, either. Everybody was just friends, Sonnet. What do you think he is? An overheated Casanova?”
“Just asking. I’ll talk to Rapp later. I promise.”
The neglected pink-and-purple bikes hung on hooks in the back of the garage. Now that they were teenagers, Niki and Lia weren’t riding them anymore. We yanked them off the wall and rode through the Queen Anne neighborhood, the shade cool now as we passed under century-old oak and maple trees. Fall hovered in the air, which meant school would start soon. My Seattle vacation would officially end later tonight when Uncle Vince and Aunt Kate drove us to the airport.
“What are you girls doing here? What a nice surprise.” Grandpa was picking dead blossoms from the red and pink rhododendron bushes that lined his yard. His end-of-summer ritual.
“I wanted to talk to you about my ring before I leave, Grandpa. You know . . . the history and stuff.”
He shoved his baseball cap up off his forehead. “Well, I don’t know too much about it, Sonnet. It came down through the family from my grandmother. She may have brought it from Ireland. I’m not sure about that, though.”
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