by Calia Read
“Probably not.”
He nods. “Perhaps for the safety of her child, she would’ve run. But she would be still usin’ her real name. Eventually, he would have caught up to her. And when he does, he either has someone kill her or takes the baby and then slinks off into the night. All the while no one is any wiser.”
“Clara and Edward raise Henry as their own and start adding kids to their picture-perfect family, while Edward, who’s now known as Teddy, is opening Ravenwood Farms,” I say.
“How many kids did they have?” Étienne asks.
“Three in total. Although two died in infancy.”
Asa whistles, and the three of us become silent. Asa’s story for Emmeline’s initials in Clara’s bible is circumstantial, but there’s a ring of truth to it. I feel nauseous. Why did I think it was a good idea to come here? Why did I think I could discover the truth and not do anything to help Emmeline? Yes, I have answers to some questions, but I know Emmeline’s been through so much. It’s not fair for her to experience more pain at the hands of another vindictive man.
Asa stares back and forth between the two of us. “I conclude the two of you are here because Emmeline is in danger?” When Étienne and I don’t answer, Asa groans immediately and rubs the bridge of his nose.
“Why the theatrics?” Étienne asks.
“Because I know you two didn’t come to New Orleans to ask me a few questions. I spoke to Emmeline this morning over breakfast. We had some business matters to speak of.” Asa drops his hand. “So what happens to Emmeline?”
“We don’t know,” I reply. The lie flows from my tongue smoothly, but my stomach churns. Some untruths are more comfortable than others, but this is not one of them. Asa stares at me for a second longer before he nods and looks away. He takes a sip of his drink.
My shoulders sag a fraction. I glance at Étienne from the corner of my eye, letting him see the anxiety building behind my expression.
“So,” Asa starts off slowly, “how is your sister?”
Étienne and I share a look. The first instinct for Étienne is to go into big brother mode and tell Asa to back off. But Nat’s married now. There’s no need for that. She made her choice, and it wasn’t Asa. Even though it’s clear he’s not okay with that.
“Be nice,” I mouth.
Étienne clears his throat. “She’s well. Right now, she’s in Europe.” He rubs the back of his neck. “On her honeymoon.”
Asa snorts and downs the rest of his drink before he motions to the waiter for a refill. “Ah, yes. Oliver Claiborne.”
Wearily, I look at him. “Didn’t you introduce the two of them?”
“Yep,” Asa replies, putting extra effort into popping the p at the end of yep.
The waiter comes over and fills up his drink. I want to tell him to go slow, but when you have a broken heart, you’ll do anything to ease the pain.
“Never once thought little Ollie would have the gumption to ask her.” He stares down into the amber liquid and swears softly. At this point, I don’t know if he realizes we’re still sitting across from him.
I’m seconds away from telling Étienne we should leave and go up to the room when Asa whips his head up and looks directly at me. “How did she look?”
The desperation in his tone throws me for a loop. I veer back and grapple with my words. Asa’s drunk and showing a brief glimpse of his feelings, which he rarely does.
“When?” I ask in confusion.
“On her weddin’ day,” he elaborates. “How did she look?”
Why can we fall so quickly in love, but never out? Why do we torture ourselves by asking questions when we know the answers are going to destroy our hearts? Because if you let it, the heart can reign over your mind, supersede logic, and make you behave in ways you never thought possible. And what was once a strong person is now a hollow shell of who they used to be.
Looking at Asa Calhoun, I can see he’s frantic yet anguished to hear my reply. It’s a hopeless position to be in. And one I can empathize with.
“She was beautiful,” I confess, my words coming out in a whisper.
Asa closes his eyes and nods. I want to reach across the table and grab his hand and tell him I know Nathalie doesn’t love Oliver—not the way she loves him—but that contradicts Étienne’s and my decision not to alter time in a severe capacity.
“Did she ask why I wouldn’t be attendin’ the weddin’?”
“It was mentioned,” Étienne says.
I stare at him with shock. I didn’t know that. Asa looks at his best friend with heartache in his eyes as he waits for Étienne to elaborate. “I didn’t go into specifics, but I told her you wished her the very best. Nat didn’t reply.”
Asa dips his head in acknowledgment. “It would have been too painful to attend.”
“I understand.”
An uncomfortable silence descends across our table. I look away; I know all too well the pain of watching someone you love with another person. I wouldn’t have been able to watch Étienne marry Scarlett. Of that, I’m sure.
Asa sighs. Turning in his direction, I watch him rub the back of his neck. “I won’t waste any more of your time tonight. Serene, it was lovely seeing you.” The words roll off Asa’s tongue bluntly. A lot like Étienne’s. Misinterpreting them would be easy, but the past has connected Asa, Étienne, and me in a way I never thought possible. The man I once viewed as an enemy is now my friend.
Étienne and I say goodbye to Asa with Étienne promising to have dinner with him when we get back to Charleston. As we walk out of the dining room, toward the elevator, everything Asa said runs through my mind.
“What are you thinking?” I ask Étienne, my eyes glued to the ornate metal enclosure around the elevator. Behind us, people start to gather as they wait for the elevator to stop on the ground floor.
“What are you thinkin’?”
“I asked you first,” I reply.
The elevator arrives, and the elevator operator opens the door. Étienne and I along with three other guests step inside the birdcage elevator. The operator closes the heavy door. I hear the scissor gate slide shut seconds later.
As the elevator jerks upward, I lean against Étienne’s side for balance. My elbow brushes against his side.
“I’m thinkin’ Asa gave us a lot to contemplate,” he whispers into my ear. Although his voice is so deep and the space is so cramped, everyone can hear him.
Looking over my right shoulder, I say, “I’m thinkin’ I’m left with more questions than answers,” I whisper.
The elevator stops on the fourth floor. Étienne and I step into the hallway and walk toward our hotel room. “I hated lying to Asa,” I confess.
Étienne holds his hand out for me to take. Without breaking my stride, I reach out and link my fingers through his. “I know. We need to focus on the right thing to do, right?”
Hesitating, I look down at my shoes. An image of Emmeline floats into my mind, and shame gnaws at me.
We stop in front of our room. Étienne unlocks the door and tugs me inside. The room is dark, but light from the outside filters in.
“You haven’t answered me. You agree we need to focus on the right thing to do, right?”
“Right,” I reply.
I’m grateful it’s dark. Étienne can’t see the worry puckering my brow. Or the guilt in my eyes.
Étienne comes up behind me. He places his hands near my corset and traces my curves before he grips my hips and hauls me against him. My head tilts back, resting against the solid wall of Étienne’s chest. It freely falls to the side. Étienne places kisses on my neck. My eyes flutter shut, and my hands cover Étienne’s, holding them firmly in place.
The tips of his fingers dig into the material of my dress as he fiercely whispers, “I love you.”
Turning in his arms, I loop my arms around his neck. “I love you too.”
I raise myself onto my tiptoes and press my lips against soft lips, anxious to lose myself in the kiss.
> That night, there’s nothing ravenous or animalistic about our lovemaking. It’s slow and deliberate almost to justify our decision not to stop time tomorrow, because our love is worth anything.
Our love is timeless.
If you were given a chance to selflessly save someone’s life at the cost of your own future and being with your soul mate, would you?
I genuinely believe the opinion would be cut down the middle. Some people would risk their lives for the sake of someone else’s, and the rest wouldn’t. That’s okay because it’s hard to be happy in this world, and even harder to be happy and in love.
My choice to sit back and let history play out is making my stomach churn. I stare down at my linked fingers while my legs nervously bob up and down underneath the table. Around me is the quiet chatter of conversation and the sound of cutlery gently scraping against plates. I lift my head and stare at a couple across from me who are having a quiet dinner, staring deeply into each other’s eyes.
They don’t know.
They don’t know that in less than five minutes, a dead body will be found on the streets of New Orleans. None of them do.
I tighten my grip until my circulation is almost cut off. This is fucked up. Am I so selfish and blinded by love that I’m honestly going to let this happen? I need to see Étienne. He told me he would meet me down here after he finished some business matters, but that was over ten minutes ago.
As I stare down at the pristine white surface of the tablecloth, I think of the moments before I left the hotel room. A small part of me was grateful to leave the small space. It was beginning to feel claustrophobic what with me, Étienne, and my ever-growing guilt keeping me company. Both Étienne and I have been uncharacteristically quiet all day. Neither one of us has talked about what’s going to happen in an hour, and we probably wouldn’t. The plan was to meet in the dining room for dinner and immediately retreat to our room. Yet when I left our room, his fingers curled around the back of my neck as he firmly kissed me. He groaned when we broke apart as if he was losing something he needed to live. I think of the way his forehead briefly touched mine as he whispered, “My surviving trace, I love you.”
My heart starts to pound because I’m so fucking stupid. I was so fixated on what the course of action was I didn’t notice Étienne was planning something else all on his own.
I begin to push away from the table when I see Emmeline. For a millisecond, all thoughts of finding Étienne are put on hold. The moment I’ve been trying to avoid is here. It’s surreal yet nerve-racking, exciting yet bizarre to be standing in the same room as my great-great-grandmother. Last time I saw her, she was a distraught woman being abused and unsure of what the future held for her. That woman no longer exists, and it shows in how she carries herself. No longer is she someone who walks into the room and tries to shrink away from everyone’s gaze. Life has been hard on her, but it’s made her stronger. Her body has filled out, more than likely a product of pregnancy. From here, I can’t see any bruises on her. While she has a wall built between her and the world, there’s no denying the spark of happiness in her eyes.
Will she recognize me? She scans the room as if she’s looking for someone. Her eyes float past me before they drift back. They widen in shock. Without hesitation, she makes a beeline for my table and stops beside me. Placing a hand on her chest, she stares at me with wide eyes. “Serene?”
Wordlessly, I nod; she’s not supposed to be here. What the hell is going on? What has Étienne done? Slowly, I stand with my mouth agape.
“What are you doing here?” I ask bluntly.
There’s no uncertainty as she takes the seat across from me and smooths out her skirt before she looks around the room. Her shoulders are pulled back. “Because Étienne told me to go here.”
Immediately, I stand. Warning bells start going off in my head. “What do you mean, Étienne told you to? When did you last speak with him?”
Frowning, she points a finger toward the ceiling. “In my room. It was minutes ago. Étienne barged in and told me I was in danger and needed to meet you down here.”
“Oh God no,” I whisper as I press the heel of my palms against my temples and close my eyes. “No, no, no.”
Without another word, I hurry out of the dining room. I can only imagine the expression on my face because every person eating glances at me as if I’m nuts.
“Serene, what is going on?” Emmeline calls behind me.
I shove a waiter out of my way, causing him to trip and fall. Glass shatters, and someone shouts, “Hey!”
Don’t care. Glasses can be replaced. Étienne can’t.
Why is he doing this? We both agreed the decision to let history take its course was the best choice. I run through the lobby and bypass the elevator, taking the stairs instead. My heart is racing a mile a minute as I take them two at a time.
Emmeline said Étienne spoke to her minutes ago in her room, but I know he’s no longer there. In my heart, I know exactly where he’s at, and it makes me sick to my stomach because he’s placed himself and our future in danger.
I don’t know if I can fix this.
From behind, she’s almost identical to Emmeline.
Her shoulders are small, spine erect. Elbows bent as her fingers hover out in front of her. The hair color is the same too. I have to give Asa credit; she’s a striking prostitute. Last night, after Serene fell asleep, I slipped out of bed and went to the front desk and asked them to send someone to Asa’s room. He came down minutes later, and I explained my plan to him. He was quiet the entire time, but in the end, he agreed something needed to be done and told me a woman would be in the hotel lobby by the next evening.
For the fourth time, she turns to me and frowns with confusion. “I don’t understand. You want me to stand here?”
I’m sure this is highly unusual from her normal activities, but we were paying her double her standard rate. “Yes, and when I say run, move to your left, run toward the exit, and head down to the front lobby,” I answer from my crouched position behind a table on the terrace. If it weren’t for the long tablecloths, it’d be impossible to hide my form.
The Italian garden space is typically used for dinners, balls, and receptions. Tonight it is empty. The circular tables are set with the wicker chairs pushed in. Corinthian columns line the entire room while vines are artfully looped through the whole room and the wooden beams on the ceiling. Potted plants are placed through the ample space. With the sunlight pouring in, you’d genuinely feel like you were in a garden. Serene would love it in here. The very thought of her has me closing my eyes. I know we made an agreement, but sometimes agreements are meant to be broken. Sometimes you have to sacrifice yourself for someone you love. I’ve caused her so much pain when all she’s done is save my family and our legacy. The least I can do is return the favor.
Even if it means I end up losing her to time forever.
The music room and empire parlor flank this massive space. Echoes of laughter trail in through the open doors, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand.
She takes a deep breath. “Am I in danger?”
“Not necessarily.”
Her panic-stricken eyes meet mine. “I’m not sure the money is worth it.”
“I’ll double it. Just stand there,” I growl.
The woman does the math in her head. She will leave this hotel tonight making more than what she makes in two months on her back.
Where is he? Impatiently, I pull out my pocket watch. 9:24. I slide my pocket watch back into my pants and ignore how my heart rate increases. It’s a matter of minutes until Emmeline’s killer is revealed.
I am not completely sold it’s Uriah or David. Perhaps it’s Emmeline’s second husband, Matthew. Emmeline has a successful business, and that makes her a moving target. And maybe Asa, Serene, and I are all wrong. Perhaps it’s someone else entirely.
Right then, a door creaks open.
Someone’s here.
“Don’t move,” I tell th
e prostitute.
She straightens her shoulders and juts her chin into the air. The door slams shut. From my place on the terrace, the sound is similar to a gunshot, making me flinch. Footsteps echo in the dining room.
“Emmeline?” a male voice calls.
“That’s him,” I hiss. “Be ready.”
Immediately, the woman stands straighter. Her body becomes tense, and her hands begin to shake.
“Emmeline, turn around. I want to have a civilized conversation with you.”
Frowning, I stare at the ground, listening carefully to the male voice. I don’t recognize it.
“Why are you being obstinate? You’re not making this easy.”
The prostitute closes her eyes. Her body is shaking, but she doesn’t say a word.
Slowly, I lift my head and catch sight of the male figure in the middle of the dining room. I jerk back down before I’m caught and look at the prostitute. “Go,” I whisper urgently.
She doesn’t have to be told twice. She turns to her left and weaves her way around the tables, hurrying across the balcony toward the second exit.
I know I have to act fast. My window of opportunity is a matter of seconds. Smoothly, I rise from my kneeling position. The man is so intent on watching the prostitute he doesn’t notice me. It’s only until he’s a few steps away that he catches sight of me. When he does, he backs away and turns around, walking toward the woman who he thinks is Emmeline.
“Where are you going? Whoever you are, let’s talk,” I say.
The look of confusion and anger he gives me over his shoulder makes my blood run cold. Who is this man? Emmeline’s first or second husband? Or perhaps David Langley?
“Who are you?” he challenges.
From the way he slurs his words, it’s apparent he’s intoxicated.
“Étienne,” I say. “Now tell me who you are.”
The man makes a scoffing noise. He stumbles back. “I’m not telling you because she’s with you too, isn’t she?” he mutters.
